Nowhere
by Felix McKraken
Summary: Vegeta becomes stranded on a planet when his Capsule is irreparably damaged. What first starts as a journey of self preservation turns into a horrifying excursion of self evasion and self discovery.
1. 1

PREFACE:  
Stop. Click back on your browser. Find another fic to read, because this one isn't the one for you. You'll read it. You'll hate it. It's confusing, and it doesn't make sense. It's tragically assembled over a period of time, so it is like assembling a jigsaw puzzle in the dark.

I'd like to pretend this story is deep, and meaningful, and all that jazz. It's not, or, it could be. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Maybe it's a work of art, or maybe it's a cop-out. I don't know.

But you probably won't like it, so just go back now. Read something else. Save yourself some time.

Or not.

**Nowhere: 1**

Flinching, shaking, writhing in agony, he forced his palms flat against the ground and pushed himself up. Errant thoughts ran through his head again: Why is this happening? How is this happening? How did I get here? Where is here?

The ground was painted with his blood: a splatter of rich crimson that looked so artistic he swore it could've been thrown on a canvas to be hung on a living room wall. He inhaled thick air into his deprived lungs while trying to ignore the pain that consumed the right side of his face. He forced himself to roll over and sit, pausing afterward to get a grip on his surroundings. Not that it entirely mattered, because he was almost absolutely certain they would change.

Tentatively, he lifted his hand and touched the right portion of his skull in an attempt to assess the amount of damage inflicted. He winced as his trembling fingers traced over his bloody body. He could only imagine what he looked like as he felt several protrusions from the skin. His eye socket was broken, he thought, and his jaw fractured.

He closed his eyes.

This is just some horrible dream, he told himself.

Yes, just some horrible dream that he'd wake up from, because he fell asleep.

He fell asleep and everything became a dream, because reality never functioned like this.

He wasn't on the run from anyone, and no one was out to get him. He wasn't stranded on a remote alien planet by himself. He wasn't by himself, dying. He wasn't in this place, where ever this place was.

He'd wake up, he told himself.

He'd wake up and all would be well.

He'd be the Prince of Saiyans training to be a Super Saiyan, again.

He would go back to Earth and defeat Kakarot.

Things would go back to the way they were.

He opened his eyes to confirm his location. The scenery had not changed. He had a few moments more to rest.

He then noticed the vision fading from his right eye. He began to panic. Could he lose his eye? Could he die? Was this real, or was this the dream? It felt so real.

It felt too real.


	2. 2

**Nowhere: 2**

You wake up and you're in a dark, desolate place, and the only way you know that for sure is the smell, because there's no way a place where life thrives, or barely sustains itself, can smell like this. I vaguely wonder where I'm at, but I know there's no real answer to that. Where ever here is, I think its sole intention is to keep me asking questions. I have lost so much faith in all I know. My perfect little world with its perfect little everything torn down to fucking nothing.

It was my undoing.

So I sit up and try to ignore the horrible stench around me that hangs in the air so thick it's like vapor. I would gag except I know there's no real point. The kind of alone I'm feeling right now is one nothing should ever feel. It's not the normal alone where you need the company of others, or where you can't relate to people, or where you find yourself unable to interact for whatever bullshit reason. It's as if everything intangible declares that you're not worthy of attention. It's exactly the type of alone you don't want to be in because fear creeps into you, stifling and suffocating you into believing you'll always be alone.

I don't even know how I got here.

Capsule crash, my ass.

Something I found, who knows.

Who cares.

All I know is I have to get out of here. Maybe, I can find that ghost of Kakarot who likes to follow me around. That goddamn bastard. I will never be able to look at Kakarot the same when I get back. Not when this image of him drags me around town of where ever it's at. Not when he smokes those cigarettes that never seem to ash. Not when he helps me escape from men who chase me down for want of blood. Not when he gets me to stay at his shit-hole of an apartment with its faded-yellow-from-white wallpaper and old couches that look as though they were procured from the garbage dump. Kakarot and his long, black trench coat and his pale skin that looks like it never sees the light of day.

Which may be accurate.

All the days here are rainy ones.

And here, where ever here is, there is no such thing as ki. I don't even know what ki is. Maybe it's something I made up, just like how I think I got here by my ship crashing. All I have is questions, and I feel like this Kakarot of mine knows all the answers, but he's just having the best of time withholding the information from me.

Sounds just like the bastard.


	3. three

**Nowhere 3:**

Even as Kakarot slams and locks the door, the safety of the lock does little to calm the beating of my heart. My whole body is shaking, and it feels like my stomach is an endless pit. I run a hand through my hair while watching Kakarot inhale deeply from his cigarette. We linger around the door as if to make sure that something isn't coming after us.

When he finally looks at me, I snap. I had been waiting for this moment ever since we had found that.. door so many miles away. "You fucking retard!" I scream, but somehow, I cannot bring myself to hit him with my fists, "What the fuck were you thinking!?" He says nothing, but his expression says it all. I turn away from his apology.

Then without warning, my anger transforms into something akin to despair, and I feel as cold as I did those so many miles away. "Oh god, oh god, oh god," I choke out. Suddenly, I'm covering my face as unaccustomed tears escape me. I cannot recall the last time I cried that's how long it's been.

I've been here too long. In stark contrast I can see that I was taking comfort in the familiar. But the stress is monumental, unbearable. I know, because I know I've cried in front of Kakarot before regardless that that's impossible. I wish my memories weren't like a city plagued with natural disasters.

I'm captivated by so much negativity that I can barely recognize basic emotions nestled within the torrent. Shame, embarrassment.. failure and grief.. these are only a few that streak down my face bitterly imbued with heat. All of this is the aftermath of my escape.

Kakarot suddenly grabs me and holds me close. A part of me wishes to chastise him for his audacity. Its drowned by the reassurance the closeness brings.

Somewhere, someone, something went very, very wrong.

This world feels wrong, and it has from the beginning.

I wish I could go home.

"I didn't know," he assures me in a tone hitherto unheard. The way he holds me makes it seem as if he's afraid I'll simply disappear.

It's silent in the room. Too silent. "Put something on," I demand.

"What?" he asks, confused.

"Put some music on or something, I can't stand the fucking silence!" I yell at him again, but am relieved that this anger vanquishes my cries.

"Oh, okay," he murmurs while reluctantly removing his grip. Across the room is an old, cassette stereo system. He puts in a tape to let music flow from damaged speakers. We collapse on the couch of his diminutive apartment. And it's so strange that despite everything I dislike about him, I know that I prefer his company now more than ever. I have no idea why. I only know that I could've lost him.

I lean against him.

He responds by putting his arm around me.

"Someone once wrote how Hell has many layers," I whisper, "..I wonder which one we're in."

He chuckles a fake chuckle - the kind you give because it's expected. Then, he says, "I'm going to burn that place to the ground."

"Good luck," I reply.

He says nothing.

The music fills my head with hope. I never before imagined it could do such a thing. Slowly relaxation sets in. My breath comes normally. The terror is passing. It may come back to me, in a waking moment or in my sleep. Apathy takes root, creating a comfortable numb.

Kakarot makes an astonishingly intimate act by pressing his lips to the top of my head.

Like an outline of a shadow, a memory washes over me.

I don't know why I smile.


	4. 4

**Nowhere: 4**

Little prince, little prince, you little, lost thing. What mishaps have occurred to cause you to arrive?

Oh little prince, little prince, you look so distressed. You look like shit, standing around that mess, that wreck, that heap of scrap metal.

Little prince, little prince, you look so frustrated, your confusion has you now, does it not?

Oh little prince, little prince, you find such disturbing things. Ah, look. What brought you to this place is destroyed, you are all alone, you are caught.

Little prince, little prince, what are you going to do now? You will not cry, will you? You still have the fortitude to resist normalcy, but this will pass just like every act of bravado you play.

Oh little prince, little prince, you scout this desolate place, and your fear grows to monumental heights. This is the definition of forbidden. You are not supposed to be here.

Little prince, you are not welcome here.

Oh little prince, little prince, if only you knew, if only you knew that no one is going to save you but you. Perhaps then you'd find the time and candor for your true ill-treated, enigma of a knave.

Little prince, you best start running. You should start and never stop.

Little prince, you are never going home again, and you know why.

No one will hear you scream.


	5. FÜNF

**Nowhere: 5**

Vegeta glanced at his watch, stopped, and truly looked at it. After staring for a moment, he tapped on the face of the watch. "What's the matter?" Kakarot asked, stepping aside to wait for his friend.

"My watch," the prince explained slowly, "it's running counter-clockwise."

Kakarot grasped onto Vegeta's wrist and pulled it under his nose for examination, muttering a "well, I'll be damned" when the statement was confirmed. The brunet glared at the man for the forced physical contact. He would've torn himself out of the grasp immediately, but he felt patient today. "So it's broken," Kakarot said with a shrug, "Chuck it and let's go." The other man began to pad away into the crowd, leaving Vegeta to wallow in morbid curiosity.

"Maybe time is going back," Vegeta thought, "Maybe everything else is going back but me."

He found himself following after Kakarot while ignoring the drizzling rain and nameless faces. They were soon at an old-fashioned square with cobbled stones and oil lit street lamps. Both took a seat at the lip of a magnificent fountain.

Kakarot reached into his pocket and took out a penny. Flipping it up, he called out, "Here's to getting laid." The copper made a small _plunk_ and sank to the bottom of the ancient monument. Vegeta looked down through the polluted water at the pile of coins scattered faintly glinting.

"Here's to the poor," he announced while rolling up his sleeve and diving his arm into the chilly water. A handful of slime-covered currency made it to the surface.

Kakarot looked at him disapproving while taking a slow drag, "That's not nice, dude. You're stealing people's wishes."

Vegeta began to clean the money of the grimy substance that coated it, "Wishes don't make things happen. If that were the case, I'd be home right now. Wishing never did anything."

Kakarot took another long drag, then he copied Vegeta and reached in. Except, instead of taking a handful, he pulled out a single, clean penny, "I'm voiding my wish. I thought of something better." Vegeta smirked. Lying back on the edge the younger man looked up at the grey-consumed sky, "What's one man's wish is another man's loaf of bread."

"Kakarot.. If you did have one wish, what would it be?"

"I dunno. Never really thought about it."

Mirroring his friend's position, he draped himself across the cool concrete. When Vegeta spoke next his tone was subdued, "One time, I wanted to be a Super Saiyan. I think if I could have anything, it'd be the memory of what a Super Saiyan is."

Another drag. "If you don't know what one is, how do you know if you are one or not?"

"How do I know?" the reply was more akin to a voiced thought, "I don't. I have no way of telling if this is even real. You could be a hallucination. You could be a dream. This place could just be a figment of my imagination."

"You told me once that you were a prince."

"Yeah.."

"Prince of what?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

A playful chortle, "Sucks to be you."

Vegeta stood and stretched, "Let's go. I want coffee."


	6. 6

Nowhere: 6

Skittering frantically they pushed their feet hard against the ground and extended their strides to the very limits of physical capability. They rounded a corner fast, and he slipped on a puddle of grime. His hands reached to grip the brick wall, but failed to make contact. He fell to the asphalt and was instantly pulled to his feet by a pair of strong hands. Briefly, he had to ask himself, "Why is this happening to me? Why am I here?" He didn't have time to stop and ponder because those.. men were closing in. Big, bad men with fully automatic weapons. The kind that could rip off limbs and leave your dead body dancing with the amount of rapid fire succession of the bullets.

All he had in defense was a broken watch and fifty-seven cents in pocket change. The other possibilities would come from objects within his immediate surroundings. Unfortunately, there weren't many makeshift weapons in dark alleyways, but, if he was lucky, they might stumble across a rock. Otherwise, he had to rely upon the fighting skills of his comrade in arms - Kakarot - who he was pretty sure knew nothing of even throwing a punch.

After a few more series of twists, turns, and vaults over fences, they heard the other men fade into the background, then altogether. Kakarot could really run.

"What do they want from me?" Vegeta gasped out, trying to catch his breath.

"Shh!" whispered the younger man, grasping his trench coat and pulling Vegeta against him to hide him within the dark folds. The brunet was surprised at the smell within – he'd expected rancid, stale sweat, but only a musky, burnt wood smell permeated the cloth. Crushing them against a wall, Kakarot explained, "They may not see us in the dark."

It was tense and awkward. Vegeta was so close to the other man he could hear the harsh beating of his heart and feel the warmth of his skin. Kept in place by fear, he dared not utter a single word. Instead, he stood immobile, breathing raggedly while inhaling the scent of his companion. Such a strange emotion came over him, a sense of loss for the idea of something in a memory. Standing there shrouded in shadows both men found their breath slowly coming with more ease. Meeting each other's gaze they began to feel that they were at last safe.

Naturally, they were wrong.

Despite how softly they tread, both Vegeta and Kakarot caught their footsteps at the edge of hearing. A moment later, out of the corner of his eye, Kakarot saw one of the men approach. He knew they weren't recognized because they weren't being shot at. The black-haired man understood the pressing need to escape the situation, and by any means necessary.

"Sorry," he said as he uncurled his hands from behind Vegeta's back and instead pushed him against the brick. He knew that the brunet wasn't the type to just go out of the norm to save his skin. He just didn't think like that.

But Kakarot did.

"Wha-" Vegeta began to ask when he was silenced by Kakarot's mouth. Eyes wide, Vegeta struggled in vain against the man, not comprehending this brash action.

"Do you want to live?" Kakarot growled, "Play along."

With the dawn of understanding, Vegeta glowered. The fear was displaced by virulent fervor as he clasped the back of the other man's neck and crushed their lips together. Duly impressed and astonished, his friend closed his eyes, willing away the eminent danger.

An eternity of seconds later someone tapped them on their shoulders - one tap each - with the barrel of a gun. "Excuse me," a voice said.

Kakarot pulled back, managing to look irritated despite the pounding of his heart and the blush across his nose, "You're interrupting. What do you want?" He leaned in, grinding his body against Vegeta's as if he couldn't bear that they were separated. The prince grit his teeth and sucked air in sharply, but not for the reason their interloper thought.

"Have you.." the man started, obviously flustered as the black-haired man reached down and groped the brunet. "Have you seen.." he tried again.

"I'm seeing a whole lot less of what I want to right now," Kakarot managed to sound indignant.

The gunner found himself backing away, "Never mind. Go about your business."

When he was out of sight, Vegeta pushed Kakarot away. He hunched over and spat as if he was going to be ill. Finally, getting the nerve to ask the question that had been plaguing him, Vegeta yelled, "Are you gay!?"

Always the devil's advocate, Kakarot shrugged, "And what would you say if I was?"

The prince stood up with an gruff sigh, "Well, I'm not. Damn it! For one, you didn't need to use your tongue, and, for another, you didn't need to fondle my balls."

The bastard had the nerve to laugh, "Touchy, aren't we? And have you ever watched a movie with a kissing scene? Anyone knows to fake a kiss you have to really kiss. If it wasn't real then it wouldn't have worked. And well.. I thought the ball fondling was a nice touch."

Vegeta was incredulous, "You have the nerve to joke? I have no idea what goes on in that fucked up head of yours so I'm making it clear now that I'm strictly a woman's man. Got it?"

Kakarot merely laughed again, "You know, particularly adamant homophobes are actually upset due to their own denial. Let's go back to my place." He grinned.

"I don't fucking believe this. When was the last time you got laid?"

"Far, far too long."

"Which explains your fascination with my sexuality," the prince observed.

"I could give you some good head," Kakarot teased.

Vegeta scoffed and turned away, "I'm sure you could."

A hand on his shoulder suddenly stopped him in his path. Kakarot forced him to look into his eyes. In a somber voice, he declared, "Listen. Despite what you think, I do respect you. Sure we just made out in front of a guy who basically had us at gun point. If you can't laugh at how ludicrous this has been how do you expect to endure? Are we to despair and despond at any sign of adversity? Are we to submit simply because we're stubborn? Yes, I laugh at inappropriate times. Yes, I laugh in the face of infamy. How can we make more of life without such a conversion? It does not mean I'm ignorant of implications. Call it an act or courage or cowardice if you'd like, either way it doesn't change the outcome."

Vegeta shrugged the hand off of him, "Obviously and unfortunately."

They walked back to the apartment in silence.


	7. seVEN

**Nowhere 7:**

He was on his back staring up at the water-damaged ceiling. His hands were behind his head, and one leg was crossing the other, ankle resting on knee. The Prince of Saiyans peered out the window at the muggy sky.

"Hey. Kakarot."

"Hm?" the younger man replied as he looked up from a magazine.

"Why don't we go out?"

The black-haired beamed and tossed his reading material onto the broken coffee table, "I thought you'd never ask! Oh, I have nothing special to wear."

Vegeta resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "I was thinking more along the lines of leaving town."

Kakarot's expression fell, and he slowly repeated, "Go.. out.. of.. town.."

The brunet nodded in confirmation as he stood, "We could find a place that doesn't rain all the time."

"You don't want to go out there," Kakarot replied, unable to meet the other man's eye.

"Why?" Vegeta snapped sarcastically, "Afraid I'm going to leave you?" He caught the minute flinch at these words. Shocked, he stated, "Shit. You do think that."

In contrast, Kakarot burst with emotion, "You don't understand! You never have. I can't protect you if you leave."

Baffled, the prince inquired, "Protect me from what?"

Kakarot inhaled deeply, covering his face with his palm, "From everything."

Damn him and damn his riddles! Vegeta swiftly strode over and shoved the man back into the couch, "You didn't protect me when you took us to that basement. Which, by the way.. how did you find those blueprints? Awfully convenient, wouldn't you say?"

"What are you insinuating?" his friend stared up at him, aghast.

"Give me a reason to trust you."

"What?"

"Give me a reason to trust you!" Vegeta commanded.

After a brief moment, Kakarot spoke calmly, yet firmly, "No."

"No?"

"You're not looking for a reason," was the next declaration, "You're looking for an excuse. And I will not commit to such a tenuous and poor foundation. If that's how you view me, then, well, you've made your decision, just don't expect me to agree or comply."


	8. 88888888

Nowhere: 8

He stumbled on some piece of metal protruding from the massive pile of junk he was crawling across. He tried to regain his balance, and normally would have if it wasn't for his depleted strength. He hadn't had nourishment in a long while - too long for a Saiyan. He crashed unceremoniously and sat breathing. Sweat soaked his clothes and he dully thought a hot bath would be nice. In fact, it'd be nice if he had water to drink. Apparently though, this planet wanted to give the bare minimum for survival. Air. That's all he had. Air. If he didn't get food soon he knew he was in trouble.

Struggling to his feet, he continued his trek to the opposite side of the garbage heap. Maybe there was civilization on his planet, he told himself. Yes, it's possible. You can be stranded and just be out of visual range of others.

On the other hand, people have ki, no matter how low.

And he could not feel any ki.

There was no ki

around him

and no ki

radiating from

anything.

Vegeta shook his head. He extended his senses - reaching, searching. Where were the animals? No matter which direction he focused, or how far, it was all blank. What was this? Could it possibly be a planet for sale lacking lifeforms? That was a dangerous route to undertake, as destroying a species of animal meant a guaranteed death of vegetation. It detracted from the value, so it was no longer common practice.

And even if he was sitting in a junk yard on a mound of garbage, that implied someone had dumped it here. The trash was fairly advanced technology as he glanced at it. Some of the parts even seemed to be from recent models of pods. Surely someone owned this plot of land since scrap like this was valuable. With his resolve strengthened, the prince stood. Just across the next hill there would be an open field leading up to a city, or a road way. Maybe he'd even find someone out there dumping or scrounging through this mess.

Yeah, he'd be ok.

Then why did he feel so sick to his stomach?

Why did he have this deep-seeded dread whenever he glossed over his surroundings? It likened to the sensation of being watched – that malevolent hint that tinted one's perception with anxiety. Involuntarily he shivered as cold wind blew against his damp body. He paused for only a moment before continuing on. How far was he now from the remains of his capsule?. With no communication, food, or water, how long would he survive?


	9. n ine

**Nowhere:: 9**

I hang from a makeshift training bar. It was interesting what Kakarot could do with odds-and-ends materials. Intrigued, I decided to try his invention, thereby strapping myself in where I proceeded to do crunches upside down.

Finishing a rep, I hold my curled position and stare at the ceiling with an uncanny desire for more. Despite the burn in my muscles this doesn't feel like enough. Contemplating what, specifically, could cause this idea of deficiency. The door slams open below me. I wonder how much my head would've enjoyed that had I been in a lowered position.

"Vegeta!" the bastard shouts out happily.

I'm angry at him, so what should I do? I let loose and spit on him.

"Igittigit!" he yells, wiping the saliva off onto his coat, "What was that for, 'Geta?"

"Kakarot, what I'm about to say is so direly important that I'm only going to say it once. Never call me that again."

"Why? It's so cuuuuute," he croons.

I hock up a loogey, and he raises his arms in surrender. I turn and spit into the nearby ashtray instead. "There's more where that came from," I warn before undoing the straps. I release my right foot and move it to hold onto a bar by curving the toes.

Suddenly his voice pipes up, "You have a _great_ ass."

My left foot slides out of its harness and my right lets go of the bar. I fall to the floor in an ungraceful heap. As I groan I vaguely wonder why these floors don't give out from such force. I snap at him to distract him from gloating, "So what if it is? What do you want? You marched in here calling my name."

His grin turns sly, "Baby, I wanna call _out_ your name if you know what I mean."

I clench my teeth so hard I think I may break my own jaw. I do the only thing that seems appropriate - I make a swing for his groin. Unfortunately, he seemed to anticipate such an action, and lucky for him, he jumped out of the way just in time.

"Alright, alright, Scrooge. What I really wanted is for you to come with me. I found something."

The lilt in his voice is annoying, but getting out of the apartment has a strong appeal. The entertainment value is poor within these scant cubic meters. "Show me," I say as I get to my feet and follow him out the door. He doesn't bother to lock it as he has nothing of real value in his apartment. Anything he owns can be stolen, or so he's told me. In fact, he hopes for it. That way, he can go out and steal nicer things.

We go down the stairs, passing some familiar and unfamiliar faces on the way. We come to the landlord who says, "Slap me some skin." Kakarot leaps into the air and, when coming down, smacks his palm against the man's. He turns to me expectantly and I lightly clap our hands. "Your friend is a pussy," this guy says to my host. I growl and bring my hand down hard. "OW! Fuck!!" the overweight man yells, shaking his hand and blowing on it.

"Hey yoz, I din' mean nuthin' bad, ya know? Word up, I wuz just kickin' it wit you," I lay out in my best 'pretend-to-be-from-the-slums-troubled-individual-stereotype' voice. I try so hard not to laugh. Out of the corner of my eye I see Kakarot doing the same.

"It's alright," he says, "Maybe you're not such a faggot, like my man here." He gestures to Kakarot who just looks embarrassed, yet flattered.

"So you are gay," I say flatly.

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not," he replies coyly. Bastard.

I return to our decent, "I never get a straight answer out of you." He chortles at this comment for obvious reasons. A severe look is enough to quiet him.

Kakarot says goodbye to his buddy-landlord and we continue on outside and down the street, avoiding the splashes of water from the cars. I used to like rainy days, but now I don't think I can stand to see another one for a long, long time.

We walk a few miles, I think. I let my mind wander the entire journey.

"Check this out," he says, opening a single nondescript door on the backside of a building. Inside, there is nothing visible to the eye. Light just fades after a few feet. I cock my head back and forth in an effort to make my eyes adjust.

"So?" I say, reaching in to feel around. The air is cooler inside, which doesn't surprise me. Between the rain and the ground level it was due to be an uncomfortable temperature.

"So?" he mocks, "So it's not in the blueprints. That's so."

Wow, not in the blueprints. Big deal. Had he never heard of renovations?

He hooks his arm around mine and drags me to the door, "Let's check it out!" I'm about to protest when we land inside.

It's oddly quiet in here and our feet make little sound against the hard ground. He releases his hold on me and I look around blindly. I wonder what type of flooring was used to have such an effect. I head back towards the door and run my hand across the wall. It's soft, like ash, and my fingertips hesitate as I'm unable to ascertain my response to this. My touch stutters before resuming my search for the light switch. On this barren wall, I note, "No light switch."

"Odd, isn't it?" Kakarot replies, his form silhouetted in the dim light from the door.

"Perhaps there's an overhead pull chain," I suggest, but boredom is creeping in and I try to place it in my intonation so that Kakarot will get the message and decide to end this silly expedition.

He wanders off into the darkness and I wait for him. I quickly become impatient.

"I want to leave, Kakarot!" I shout, but the only sound that returns is a faint repetition, "I want to leave, Kakarot!"

What is he doing? Trying to play hide and seek? I choose the direction I last saw him in and angrily stride into the darkness. After a minute I grow weary of his games and I break into a run.

My feet pound the ground and I am very, very upset right now. What was he planning on finding here? It's an abandoned storage facility and nothing more. A growl bubbles in my throat, but never makes it to the air. Before it could I came to the realization that I had been sprinting in a place of pitch black – not exactly the safest choice to make. I stop in my tracks and hold absolutely still as I also realize I have found neither my eccentric companion nor a wall. "Kakarot?" I call out, startled as my voice reverberates.

The sound eventually decays, and I force myself to move forward. This time, however, I do so slowly and cautiously. Something whispers to the back of my mind like a latent instinct. Dread creeps into my chest, making it ache. "Kakarot?" I try again, and this time there is no audio reflection.

I can feel my heart pounding in my ears, and a part of me thinks how foolish I'm acting. Yet the majority agrees , although for a vastly different reason. It's not being a fool for feeling fear; it's being a fool for brazenly entering this.. location.

My head whips around to be confronted with a horrible truth.

No light. No light at all. No sound except my breath, just on the edge of infrasound.

I am lost.

This place.  
This place  
made of dark  
and that which is  
larger on the inside  
than the out.

My lungs expand and contract at a faster pace.

How do I know this?

I do an about-face again. Then again.

I know not where I'm going. I merely run, and run, and run.

But

am I

running

in a

circle?

I feel like I am being swallowed. Like I am running forever deep into this maze, this horizontal abyss, this maw of judgment. The concept of infinity becomes more than words, transforming now into a tangible, menacing promise. I run aimlessly, futilely.

Maybe

that

is

what

it

wants

me

to

do...

Maybe

I

am

not

supposed

to

leave

this

place...

I am alone.

For the first time in a long time, I am truly afraid.

I am by myself, yet I can feel eyes on me. Eyes just watching. Waiting.  
Waiting for what?  
A perfect moment.

Maybe  
it  
wants  
my  
sanity.

Maybe  
this  
thing  
wants  
suicide.

Is

Kakarot

dead?

"KAKAROT!" I boom at the top of my lungs. I keep shouting, even when it becomes guttural and coarse.

I travel in a direction, but does it really matter which one?

This looming purgatory exposes the obvious:  
I will never know who I am.  
If I die, there will be nothing.  
This is my damnation.

I've never been spiritual, yet I'm instilled with this need to confess. This is my attempt at redemption as I speak to Kakarot, the darkness, the world, myself.

"I'm sorry," my speech is poignant, "I know it's stupid and doesn't make sense, but I treat you horribly because I like you. I have the knowledge that I've lost memories. You know that sensation when you have a word on the tip of your tongue? That feeling in your brain as it searches for the answer and nears the result? Every waking moment is like that for me. As if I can't recall a distinct memory, but I have a shrouded shape of it. Like how I know you're not the Kakarot I know. I think you're a bastard, but I also think you're a nice guy." My voice dwindles, "I know you're a connection to my past. I need you. I need you despite your obnoxious gall and outrageous behavior, but maybe.. maybe that's also why I need you. So you can show me that there's another way. So that you can help me leave this place."

Feeling drained, I sit on the floor. The longer the silence extends the louder a wicked thought grows.

I pull my knees to my chest to keep warm. Still trying to ward off this phrase which grinds into my skull.

He's gone, it says, He's gone. He's gone. He's gone. He's gone. He's gone. HE'S GONE.

And then something touches me, jabbing into my side as it cries out. After the initial fright I calm because this was a person, not a monster. "Kakarot?" I say hopefully.

"Vegeta!?" is the reply.

I reach forward and grab onto the source of the voice, feeling fabric between my fingers. "It's me!" I affirm, urgency humming through my veins now.

Copying my behavior, he latches onto me, "We need to get out of here."

"No shit!"

Propping ourselves up with each other, we walk cautiously in step. There is no further communication as we travel.

He stops abruptly and announces, "I felt a breeze." After a hesitation, he tugs at me, "This way!"

The doorway.. melts into existence. As if we had simply been blind to it.

Too wide together, we break apart at the threshold and run with every ounce of willpower we can muster. We ignore the icy jabs in our lungs and the painful numbness in our muscles. We only stop when we are inside his apartment.


	10. ten

**Nowhere: 10**

My name.

My name is Vegeta.

Vegeta.

Vegeta is my name.

What's in a name?

What is its purpose?

What is my purpose when everything of me is gone?

Why do I think of this instead of concentrating on how I'm choking on my own blood?

Are memories more important than living?

I don't know what I wanted to be when I grew up. I don't remember my parents - what they looked like, how they raised me. I don't remember if I had siblings, older or younger. I don't know if I had a profession. I'm not even certain of my hobbies and whether I was an amateur or an expert at them.

Every inch of my past has been devoured by me, or this place - by both or neither.

Faded. Leaving imprints. Holes. Amnesia.

Once I knew a man whose name was Kakarot, but he wasn't the Kakarot I knew.

I knew, or I know?

This makes no sense.

Maybe this is surrender. It feels like how my blood tastes. It reminds me that there is nothing to call my own save these companions that are my nightmares. Glimpses of irrationality, fear, shame. Or maybe these are my memories. Maybe not knowing who I am is better than who I was.

Then why do I lack the ability to aspire, to ascend?

Kakarot.. you warned me of this, didn't you? And I was too blind to see.

But not now.

I don't know if this place proves the existence of a god. Only a god would make this, but no god _would_ make this. What's the opposite side of a god? What's the balance? What's beyond mortal and immortal? Every living thing can perish.

Please, I yield. Let me succumb to my antagonist. These emotions are too much to bear.

I'm losing faith.

Everything is reverting.

Forgive me.

Kakarot, I wonder if you can hear me. I'd like for you to. I wouldn't want you to suffer alone, like me. Even if you're a liar, even though you withheld the truth from me, I believe that you cared. You protected me from death itself. You managed to make a different kind of darkness. Maybe I resented you for it. Seeing you, I saw everything I lost – no – misplaced.

It is as if I've neglected parts of myself to the point where they're so rotted and in such disrepair that they can no longer be distinguished from one another. It's as if I'm merely shambles on the inside, the hollowed shell of a person. The skeleton of a soul.

Oh, the sensation that arises at that particular thought.. it is you, Kakarot. That feeling of lost equilibrium. The pit fall. I'll never be rid of you.

I'm glad of it.

You linger inside my head, like a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Or an angel disguised as a demon.

Can angels be cryptic? Do they bend the truth to spare pain? Would you tell me this wasn't all in my head even if it was? Would you lead me to believe this is a dream? That I could awaken anew? That the rain, fatigue, pain, and blood was just a benign mirage?

What a blissful image.

But what if I am dreaming, but cannot wake? What could be done that hasn't already been done? What avenues could I attempt to explore then? How could I prevent myself from being further misguided?

Struggling for the possibility of a possibility...

And there's no one to help me, but me. There's no one to save me except for myself. No family. No friends. Maybe they're dead. Maybe they're farther away than I could ever possibly imagine.

And if I had a family, what kind? Were we close? What kind of extended relatives did I have? Maybe I had a wife. Maybe we had kids. Maybe it was a good life where we had family game night, and performed stupid traditions like only decorating the Christmas tree the night before. But maybe it was bad. Maybe I hated the bitch, and maybe we fought all the time in front of the kids. Maybe I hit them, or she hit them, and maybe they hit us back. Maybe we took advantage of each other, verbally jabbing on a daily basis, too wrapped in our own worlds and priorities and too self-absorbed to take care of one another and work in a harmonious unit. It could've been a loving arrangement or it could've been a cycle of abuse. Or better. Or worse.

Ah.. my blood is thick.. never noticed how thick before...

..Kakarot?

Can I give up so easily? I'm so tired. My will is evaporating as quickly as my memories.

I don't think I can walk. My lungs burn, my throat is hoarse, a metallic tang is on my lips and tongue. My nose inhales the scent of decay. My figurative slow-death implanted into my senses by my mind?

How long has it been? How long have I been lying here? It's so hard to tell when the sky is the same bleak grey all the fucking time. Does it.. even matter?

I'm.. losing ground.  
Breaking inside..

Breaking..

..again?


	11. e le ven

**Nowhere: 11**  
  
bloodpainrejectionanticipationanxietynervousnessdistressaminosityanger  
disappointment YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW lonelienesssacrificedisillusionment  
fragmentsunforgiving LOST AND WAYWARD, I HAVE, YOU HAVE, NO ONE HAS CHOSEN  
THE PATH OF RIGHTEOUSNESS forgottenforbiddenlostdespairinflamation  
carelessnessdisgusteddisobedientunderminedfadedjadeddesensitizeddesegregated  
unbiddenunmanageablebroken THERE IS NO FATE, NO DESTINY, JUST FREAK ACCIDENTS  
crueltyfradulencefakeusedabusedmisinterpretedmisunderstoodstressirritation  
aggravationagitationsweatvomitboneunrelentingirrationalitysenselessness YOUR  
OWN WORST ENEMY IS YOURSELF helplessnesssubduedsubmissionaggressioninstigated  
lostlostlostnowhereandalonewithnoonenoonenoonebyyoursideforgotaboutliketrash  
likeshitthatwearethefertilizerfortheearthapassingmemoryafleetingmomentandthis  
thisthisstupidthingwithnoendnolifenodeathanabominationamonstrosityorisitright  
andeverythingwrongwhoistosaywhichiswhichiswhichandnoonenoonenoone(is here)i  
cantholdhold kakkarot kakkarot kakkarot  
  
**WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME?**  
  
  


(Why not?) Take it all apart. Tear it down. Put it up. Self destruction is the key to all the little mysteries. Hatred of yourself is perfectly normal, right? I hated myself for years, haven't I? Who am I to know who I am? Who is anyone to know? It's so cold.  
  
Cold just like winter, like Kakkarot's apartment, on a rainy day.  
Alone like a prince, a prince of a dead kingdom, with no disciples.  
Afraid unlike others, no innocene - no nothing, my life is nothing.  
I will never leave, I will live forever here, if I am alive.  
  
YOU betrayed me. 


	12. 12

**Nowhere: 12**

A quick shake brought the prince out of peaceful slumber. "Sleep well?" a slightly muffled voice asked. He opened his eyes blearily, blinking away his sleepiness. Focusing on a figure above him, an orange glow became a beacon in the darkness. With a near-silent huff he rolled over, intent on falling back into the realm of unconsciousness. "Hey Vegeta..." a quiet voice called out, "Wakey wakey, let's get nakie..."

That woke him up; his eyes immediately snapped open. He flung his fist out, aiming towards the soft warm glow. A smack was heard and was accompanied by a loud, "Ow!" He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and squatted more than sat due to the lack of box springs. "The thanks I get for my hospitality," Kakarot's voice mock-pouted.

"Hospitality!?" a groggy Vegeta nearly growled out, "I don't think it was very hospitable when you jammed your tongue down my throat last night!"

"Ha! I knew it! I knew you'd still be bent out of shape because of that, that's why I was waking you up. You see, I'd like to make it up to you."

"Let me guess - no - hope that you're going to take some rope, tie one end around a rafter, create a noose with the other, put it around your neck, stand on a chair, and leap off?"

"No, uh.. it's better than that."

"I get to push you off?"

"No, I'm going to treat you!"

"Treat me like what? A sexual object for you to toy with?"

"Nah, I'll do that later. But for now I'm going to treat you to a night on the town! Well, afternoon too, but you get the point."

"And what makes you think that I'm going to agree with this?"

"Well.." Kakarot's voice turned sly and suddenly Vegeta was crushed against the larger man, "We could just stay right here.. together.. Vegeta..."

Bursting from the hold he was in, Vegeta shot up, nearly tripping over himself as he stumbled towards the doorway, "Oh shut up! Let's go already if we're going to go..."

Kakarot bound past him and went to his apartment door, opening it for his guest, "After you.." Vegeta huffed and grabbed a jacket that was slung over a lamp. He slipped on the piece of stained denim, eying the black-haired man wearily. The other only grinned broadly, the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

As Kakarot shut the door, some neighbors two doors down began arguing quite loudly and obnoxiously. "Not the Pinkertons _again_.." the younger man sighed, marching down the hall and knocking on the door: thump thup-thup thup--thump. "WHAT NOW?" Kakarot demanded, bellowing through the door.

"She hid my glasses!" came the reply of a masculine voice.

An indignant cry, "I did not!"

Kakarot banged his head against the wood, "Calvin, do me a favor. Check in the cushion of your green chair - left side. ....Are your glasses there?"

A pause before a shout of triumph came from within, "Hot damn! How'd you know they were there? Thanks, sonny!"

Kakarot motioned for them to leave and they began the descent of the staircase. "How did I know they were there?" he rolled his eyes then gave his head a shake, "Maybe because the same thing happens every Thursday.." And they were off.

They traveled past the Apothecary, down to Horaceton Avenue, then took the subway. They had never taken public transportation together, and Vegeta hadn't at all. The prince was not impressed by the number of new odors he discovered in the confined space of the train. Half of the lights were burnt out and the other half of them flickered as if lose in their sockets. The level of degradation was probably at an all time high. "It's a miracle at all that the damn thing runs," Vegeta silently mused, "it's as if it's held together by prayer."

Kakarot, on the other hand, seemed relaxed. He leaned back in his seat and stared at the ceiling with his legs stretched out. Vegeta kept his arms folded and his gaze fixated on the floor. He did not wish to accidentally instigate some unwanted attention.

A crackling P.A. system sparked to life, announcing the 12th Street and Abbey stop. Kakarot got up and stretched, nudging the brunet to indicate he should prepare for departure.

The train came to an abrupt halt and Vegeta careened into Kakarot, who caught him with ease. He chuckled at the elder, "Need a little help?" He curled an arm around Vegeta's lower back while his free hand reached for the prince's closest arm - to guide him as if he was elderly and needed the assistance.

"Get off me!" Vegeta hissed, pushing him away. Kakarot tumbled backward, almost hitting a bystander.

"I was just kidding.." the black-hair grunted, rising to his feet while ignoring glares from all around. The doors opened and Vegeta stepped off of the demon vehicle, watching Kakarot flock to avoid the crowd.

"Okay, it's just a few blocks from here," he happily announced, apparently over the shoving incident. Whether he was or not was a different matter entirely, but Vegeta would rather simply ignore it so he nodded in acknowledgment.

The rain lifted to a light drizzle, the overcast almost breaking. Sunlight threatened to spill onto the festering world below, but Vegeta turned his attention to the ground. He knew the clouds would not dissipate. He knew that the rain would return, whether if in minutes or hours.

"We're here!" Kakarot announced while spreading out his arms in a gesture of "ta da." Vegeta allowed his gaze to rise, and in front of him was an old, baroque styled building, or at least what he assumed was baroque. Columns littered the large block of carved stone, especially on the steps. From the rusted sign planted on the filthy white marble, Vegeta deduced that this was a "Museum of Science and Industry," except some of the letters were missing:

MUSE__ OF _CIEN__ AND __DUST__

Kakarot was bounding up the stairs - his trench coat swaying in a rhythm of his movement. He purposely hit all the puddles in his path without any sign of worry. Vegeta cautiously jogged after him, careful to ensure he wouldn't slip on the slick rock. They reached the plateau and slowed down, leisurely approaching the front doors which were heavy copper and bronze. The copper was now green due to the passage of time as well as the weather conditions. Ornate designs covered them from hinge to hinge, even the handles didn't escape the fanciful shaping. The two men opened the doors with slight difficulty and set their eyes upon the inside.

Dim lights drowned the lobby in a soft, almost timid glow. The amber tint, as well as the stillness of the air, gave the feeling of age. At was nearly as if they were in a crypt, except at room temperature.

Kakarot strolled up to the front desk, causing his footsteps to ring down distant halls. He paused at the unmanned station and peered around for any signs of life. "Guess no one's here," he concluded as he turned around to expose a huge grin he now sported, "That means the whole place is to ourselves." He immediately veered towards the left hall, skipping till he reached the first display.

"This is the evolution of the spoon," the black-haired man read aloud. He stared, dumbfounded, at the display. Vegeta joined him a moment later much to the prince's chagrin.

"How fascinating," Vegeta said dryly - flatly. His eyes scanned over the time line and visual aids with detached interest.

"Right," his companion agreed before slowly side-stepping, "Let's move on." His strafing led the pair to another display. "Here is an authentic phonograph, complete with a record. These devices were used to play music over ten generations ago."

"Exciting," Vegeta retorted.

"To function these machines one places the needle within the outermost groove of the record and cranks the handle," the younger male concluded, then abruptly hopped over the railing. Vegeta raised an eyebrow as his friend examined the antique device. As per the instructions, he lifted the needle, put it in the specified place, and cranked the handle for a good ten seconds or so before he released his grip and stood back.

Static crinkled from the golden-bronze cone.

Then..

Noise.

A metallic droning sound burst through the hallways, echoing and reverberating within the vast monument of architecture. It was as if two dying, robotic birds were crying for help towards one another. No, not birds.. something else with feathered wings...

Vegeta winced at the sound as it triggered something inside of him, something he couldn't put his finger on. Kakarot looked bewildered, but not nearly as startled as his counter-part.

"It sounds unnatural," Vegeta thought, his eyebrows knit together in concentration. "Kakarot," the brunet called out, "Turn it off!" His command wasn't obeyed because his voice didn't actually make it past his lips. His heart was pounding in his chest. Unnatural... The room was spinning, in focus, then gone in a blur, then wrongly proportioned, then gently gliding, moving, flowing, fading, coming, going... gone and there in no particular order.

WHERE AM I?  
WHAT HAPPENED?

this is your greatest failure yet, vegeta.  
if only you could laugh at your mistakes.

Then.. the museum.

Kakarot had disengaged the needle and was climbing back over the rope when the brunet realized something horrible had just happened, yet he was clueless as to what and to what degree.

He shook it off as his companion returned to his side. They continued their trek to the end of the hall, eventually investigating the second. One particular display caught both of their interest.

"This display is of a layer from the body of James Bolero," Kakarot murmured. Vegeta could not help but stare. There was something strangely intriguing, yet oddly disturbing about a body donated to science. A layer of a once living person - a slice of skull, skin, tissue, muscle, and brain - showcased behind Plexiglas. A piece of a person for the masses to gawk at. It simultaneously saddened and unnerved him. He didn't know why.

"Let's go down the third hall.." Vegeta suggested sluggishly, "It's supposed to be modern, I think." From the corner of his eye he saw the mass of black spikes move in a nodding motion. He forced himself away from the preserved remains, and led the duo towards the final hallway.

Upon entering, he blinked several times, as if doubting his sight, and then it was confirmed when Kakarot spoke. "Where's all the displays?" he asked while twirling around to see empty cases in every direction. The room was completely barren save for the dust collecting in every nook and cranny. Spot lights cast down upon nothing. Not even the plaques survived this void of presentation - at least - engraved plaques. The younger man released a heavy sigh, and then, "Let's go, Vegeta, I'm getting kind of hungry anyways."

Vegeta concurred, trailing after his friend. Something called to him, like an itch in his mind, or a hint to a mystery. A powerful impulse coursed through him and he yielded to it, tilting his head back. Across the vaulted, arched ceiling high above, he could faintly make out a mural painted in black upon black. He felt compelled to say nothing.

On their way out, the prince abruptly halted in his path. Kakarot looked back at him curiously, taking the time to inhale a long drag. The elder appeared to be examining something, and when he stood up straight again Kakarot could see that it was a small box which was resting on a stand. He squinted slightly to make out the wording.

With precise aim, Vegeta brought his elbow down onto the donation box. The wood crunched beneath the force easily due to its rotting state. The lid and lock went crashing to the floor, and, without hesitation, Vegeta reached inside to pilfer his heart out. He counted the change in his hands. "It could pass for a meal," he announced before putting the money into his pocket. They left in silence, the heavy doors clanging behind them, as if locking themselves. Vegeta had a deep-seeded feeling that they were the museums only visitors in a very long time. He also felt, for some reason, that they'd be the last.

He came; he saw; he stole.

They walked a few blocks, dodging into the nearest bus stop when the rain picked up. The warped plastic provided minimal shelter and several others had already squeezed themselves onto the bench. Kakarot and Vegeta stood in close proximity, trying to keep the cold out. Thankfully the public transit arrived in a few scarce minutes. The two men paid the fee as they got on and took residence in the front, standing across from one another regardless that there were some available seats. About halfway through the trip, the black-haired one began to hum a soft, almost-sweet tune. Vegeta glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, but continued to look at nothing, afraid that - perchance - he'd start another hunt, like what happened previously. That day...

Why did he even run? He could've stopped them, he thought. Then he realized how ridiculous that sounded, even in his head, but unfortunately he couldn't halt the resounding irrationality that bounced between fight and flight. There was too little that made sense. For instance, here was Kakarot before him, but this was not the Kakarot he knew. The Kakarot he knew was a third-class--

He shook his head a bit as if to clear it, and his eyebrows knitted in confusion and concentration. Kakarot was a third class.. A third-class what? The noun eluded him. He was a third-class. A third-class. Third-class.. A third class what!?

His mental drama abruptly came to an end as the very person he was thinking about began to murmur the tune.

"Oh, sing sweet nightingale.. sing sweet nightingale..."

Vegeta sighed silently, exhaling through his nose. Everything was too muddled up, too real to be fake, and too fake to recognize. It was like living in a dream - having no control. But is there control when one is awake? He attempted to organize his thoughts in order to give himself a base, to give himself.. comfort... How humiliating.

"Feeling humiliated..!?" the words burst up his throat and past his lips before he even realized he was speaking out loud.

Kakarot's soft serenade abruptly broke off as he heard his shorter companion speak, "Hmm? ..What's that?" Vegeta shook his head and looked away from the other man, embarrassed by his own behavior.

"'What's that?' indeed," the prince sulked internally. He knew what is _was_, but he didn't know _why_ he'd spoken it. It was a sudden phrase in his mind, over-powering, dominating for no reason other than to be spoken. It came smoothly, as if he had spoken it before, or as if the situation permitted it. There was emotion with those words. Anger. So much anger. However, he felt none of it, as if he was immune to its effects. Maybe numb. It was if the words themselves had become a brief embodiment of rage and they used him as a host. Stranger still, he knew the answer to the question. As soon as he noticed it within his grasp, he held it, and repeated it numerous times in an attempt to decipher it.

"You don't even know what humiliation is."

Humiliation. What was it? An emotion.

He tried to think how it felt to feel humiliated.  
But realized he couldn't remember.  
Oh god...

Could he even feel at all..?

The bus began to decrease in speed and Kakarot confirmed that this was their destination. The vehicle came to a complete stop before opening its doors. "Vegeta," the black-haired man's voice broke the brunet from his inner pondering.

The two travelers strode out onto the sidewalk, free from the metal confines. Kakarot led them down a small stretch of specialty shops until they turned towards a particular place that had a canopy overhanging. The taller of the two held the door open, "Despots first." Vegeta pulled his lips back in a snide sort of smirk, as if to emphasize sarcasm; but he accepted and stepped through the door into a rather dimly lit entryway. He glanced around at the burnt out bulbs before turning his gaze in front of him where a podium stood with a middle-aged woman behind it, chewing on a piece of gum. Kakarot took the initiative and told her, "Booth for two."

The woman grabbed two menus and guided them to the far back left corner, seating them across from one another. Vegeta got the distinct feeling that she wanted them as far away from her as she could manage. Kakarot thought it was sweet of her to get them such a secluded spot where they wouldn't be bothered. A waitress came by to take their orders. Kakarot smiled jovially at her and set down his menu, interlacing his fingers, "I'll have the special and a root beer float."

"We only have diet root beer right now," the girl replied.

"A diet root beer float then."

"And the ice cream is sugarless, 'cause that's all we could get on short notice."

"I'll be daring," Kakarot insisted, "Bring it on."

The young lady shrugged and picked up his menu; then she turned to Vegeta, "And what'll you have?"

Vegeta folded up his menu an passed it to her, "A number two with no mayo. And some coffee. Black." She scribbled something down on a pad of paper and walked off. Now, the prince had been waiting with dread for this particular part. He loathed the mere thought of small talk with the other man. It was probably because he was worried that the younger would flirt with him, but there was also a distinct possibility that it'd be because Kakarot would say something he might not want to hear, regarding things he did not even want to think about, let alone discuss. He glanced up to see the younger staring idly at a painting on the wall When he began to hum again, Vegeta traced a pattern in the polished wooden table with his fingertips.

Suddenly Kakarot's voice broke the quiet air, his voice smooth, almost soothing, "Oh, sing sweet nightingale..sing sweet nightingale..high above me..." Vegeta slouched down, trying to hide from the attention which was suddenly bestowed upon them. Oblivious, Kakarot continued to sing on, "High above.. oh, sing sweet nightingale.. sing sweet nightingale, high.. oh, sing sweet nightingale.. sing sweet nightingale.. high.. above me..."

Vegeta could take no more of what he viewed to be punishment. Leaning over and hissing through his clenched teeth, he asked, "Are you quite through!?"

Kakarot smiled at him warmly, "Oh, sing sweet nightingale.. sing sweet nightingale.. oh.. sing.. sweet..." Beaming with pride he rested his elbows on the edge of the table, declaring, "I'm done now. What's the matter? Don't you like my song?"

Vegeta massaged his temples, closing his eyes, "You're a man singing about a _nightingale_ for fuck's sake."

Kakarot grinned widely as he crossed his arms - obviously not phased by the implications, "Yes. So?"

Vegeta looked up at him and rolled his eyes while mumbling, "I shouldn't have expected more from you."

The younger man leaned back into the booth and a frown crept onto his features, "It holds special meaning for me, Vegeta."

The prince raised an eyebrow, letting his head rest in one hand as the other laid on the table, "Oh, does it?"

The other man's features darkened a bit more, "Are you insinuating that my voice is horrible?" Vegeta stared blankly at him, not sure exactly how to respond. The black-haired one extended his arms and sung loudly for the royal man, "I can't stop this feeling deep inside of me! Boy, you just don't realize what you do to me!"

Vegeta flushed crimson immediately, "Shh! Kakarot..!!"

Unwilling to listen, his friend stood up to place one foot on the table top, "Your lips are sweet as candy - yeah! - the taste is on my mind! Boy, you keep me thirsty for another cup of wine!"

"Kakarot, sit down before I deck you!!"

Grinning from ear to ear, his companion obeyed, but only after bowing slightly to the applause he received, "See? They liked my singing, Vegeta."

The brunet shifted sideways in his seat and he looked up at the ceiling, thinking, "This is much worse than small talk."

Thankfully, the waitress arrived with their orders which she set on the table. "A special, a root beer float, a number two, and a cup of coffee," she listed.

Vegeta dove into his sandwich and stopped on the first bite, not even severing the piece completely from the rest of the sandwich. He put the food item back down, "I asked for no mayo." The waitress took off the top slice of bread, which held the mayo, wiped off the white cream on the edge of the table and put the grain product back on. "Why.. thank you," Vegeta said sarcastically.

"No problem," the girl said with smile that matched his voice. She promptly departed.

Laughing, Kakarot commented, "I swear I saw that on a commercial once." Ignoring his friend's plight, he took out a fork and dug into his meal. After a few bites, however, it became his turn to complain, " This is so nasty. Seriously." He ate a few more bites, then talked with his mouth full, "This is worse than throw up. I mean, well, fuck..." Still he ate, "Ugh, I've eaten things that were more toxic than this and this still manages to have a more revolting flavor."

Vegeta finally snapped at him, "Then why do you eat it!?"

"Well, for one, I'm really that hungry," Kakarot finished it off, "and for another, there's just some things you don't understand about me, Vegeta."

The words were a trigger to something inside his head.  
Another reminder.  
This Kakarot was not his Kakarot.  
A known stranger, an unknown friend.  
What anomaly would permit such distortion?

"Tell me," the Prince of Saiyans found himself speaking. His words were slow and deliberate now - oily even.

"Hmm?" was the reply.

"Tell me the truth. About this place. About you."

Kakarot first raised an eyebrow, then a sly smirk spread across his lips.

Several moments passed in silence.

His voice came as an almost-whisper, barely audible over the other conversations in the restaurant, "The apartment that I live in.. I murdered the previous owner." Vegeta gaped at the dark expression his companion wore. Somehow, in his mind, all his previous associations were shot to hell. Part of his foundation crumbled before him. The shock disoriented him. Kakarot was not innocent? Kakarot committed murder? Impossible.

But why? Why was there associations in the first place? Why would-

"He did something so terrible that I had to do it. It was only what was right to do."

Vegeta breathed again, "..Self-defense?"

"You could say that.." Kakarot's face brightened slightly, yet somehow not in a positive manner, "Look, he gave me this." He shrugged off his coat and lifted his shirt so that it bunched around the collar. Across the pale, toned plane of his chest was a long, jagged scar that was discolored darker than the rest of the skin. It spanned diagonally, starting at the top of the left pectoral and ending under the right side of his ribcage. The brunet stared at the memory of an injury while noting how strange the blemish's shape was – wondering what could have possibly caused it.

Vegeta felt like shit, all of the sudden. The kind of feeling, he imagined, you'd receive from pissing in the holy water only to sober up and realize what you had done. Irrevocable, uncomfortable, and noteworthy.

"..I'm done if you're done."

The other nodded once in response, "Okay."

They left without paying.


	13. nNhHeEzZiIeErRdD

Vegeta sat -------------------------------------------- Lightning flashed erratically, -------------------------------. ---------hate --------------------- scared. ------------------------- building had him completely freaked, he had never felt more --------------------, and somehow he could --- accept that. ------------------------ felt a presence beside him. A timid hand rested on his shoulder, ---------------------------. Vegeta closed his eyes as ---------------------- his chest. ------------------------ which soothed the prince ------------------------------------- Hands -------------------------------------------------skin. For once ----------- safe, and he could ---------------out consequence. He ----------------------------------------------------------------------- his thigh. Kakarot smiled, himself feeling very calm. He hadn't felt -------------------------------- remember. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- soft and -------------------------------. Disbelief reined his --------, but it was--- --pleasant- It was rather instead -------------------- Kakarot---------------------, Vegeta stared. There ----------------------------- scar, and the brunette -------- how it got there -------. He ---------------------------touch-- --. Kakarot ---------------------------- his hands instantly -------------------------------------------- and he -------------------------------. Vegeta gasped in surprise, but ------- resist, -----------------------------------------warmth. Fingers -------------------------The thunder crackled lowly, no longer seemingly ---ressive. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------safety--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------no exceptions----------------------------------------------- exception, Kakarot. Was it possible? Somehow he believed it ------------------ in some sort of ---------------- ---- -----------------------------------------------------------------------------. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Kakarot-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------thoughts regarding ----------------- were----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------. Vegeta slept soundly.


	14. 14 Fourteen

**Nowhere:: 14**

Rearrangement.

So easy to describe. Such a simple description. Such utter pain or joy from the act, not to mention everything in between and beyond.

Rearrangement has so many possibilities. So many things can occur - can range from simple to intricate, and one is capable of masquerading as the other. For him, it brought upon something unbearable. The shifting of an entire perspective. The impossibilities flaunting themselves before his acute senses.

Denial was not an option.

To not accept was another thing all together. He had a choice whether to believe if this was real or not. Questions lacking answers half-formed in his mind before he gave up again. Completely pointless to try anymore, really. (But it would happen anyway.)

The snow flakes gently fell through the stagnant air, collecting on the dry grass which spread out in every direction. The ice particles drifted down, landing on his skin as well - melting at the contact after a few seconds. He thought of how every individual snowflake was supposedly unique - how every one of them was blessed with that gift. Out of all their vast numbers, how could there not be two identical ones? From his vantage point, they all appeared the same.

He sighed deeply and made his breath a mass of dancing swirls in the afternoon air. He hugged himself tighter while thinking.

The prince wondered if something here viewed him – people - like he saw the snowflakes: tiny, undiscernable, insignificant.

His clothing, not made for harsh conditions, made him long for the warmth of Kakarot's apartment. It saddened him to think of his folly, of traveling alone and distrusting the other man. With this his desire to travel waned and died. The brunet stopped beside a random post in a field of wooden poles. He moved slowly, the cold making his joints and muscles stiff. It was an effort to bend at the knees and fall into a crouch, and another act of willpower to collapse, carefully, onto the ground. Though tired and weary, sitting offered little comfort as snow littered ground chilled him further.

Desperately Vegeta tried to recall why he had decided to leave in the first place. It came to him.

It had been a strange drive to divest himself of all that he knew now in order to replace it with his past – to fill his head and heart with things he could not name. Despite being rescued by an enigmatic, elusive sable-haired bastard, he felt an underlying current of intrigue and satisfaction which exonerated the younger male.

His eyelids drooped as his consciousness fluttered from one state to the next, back and forth. Perhaps he was more exhausted than he realized.

His body soon demanded rest, and he yielded to the withered demands of his stamina. His mind.. would have to wait for another time. Even as he was drifting off he was still trying to take into consideration the implications of his flight from the city.

He was alone, had to function alone, do everything alone. He would have to grow accustomed to that or surely perish.

Rearranged. Blissfully unaware.


	15. 15

**Nowhere: 15**

Little prince, you trudge up those steps with determination though you are riddled with anxiety. Afraid at nothing and everything, you find strength at the notion of halted depravity.

You lost prince, so full of resolve, you blind yourself to danger and catastrophe. Impending judgment will ignore your screams, and your loneliness will amply the ringing.

Upwards you march towards your fate, completely unaware that you are defenseless. Your lack of guard is amusing, little prince.

Poor, misguided creature. So unfortunate.

This act will pass. You too shall pass, little prince. Your stay has been a fleeting moment, your departure an eternity.

It is agony, is it not, little prince? That your efforts are wasted as much as yourself, that lurking above reflects what you have become.

Little prince, the truth is a self-fulfilling prophecy, a destiny written and arranged by the deranged like an alchemy of a petulant decree and an unbidden burden.

This is your overture, your encore, your prelude and postscript.

The bell tolls, little prince, and no one hears your pitiful, demeaning shriek as you fall, fall, fall into the chasm of decimated dreams

What a disappointment you are.


	16. SIXTEEN

**Nowhere - 16**

Cradling his broken flesh, he pushed himself up off the ground.

Though disoriented he was aware that an unavoidable occurrence was drawing nearer, punctuating its foreboding mass.

He forced down the pointlessness just like he was swallowing his own blood.

Eyes opened in order to find how vision faired. The darkness made it nigh impossible to tell. Nausea was induced when his head swam. Everything hurt so much he felt like throwing up organs.

He collapsed to the floor that was both sticky and slick at once. Shock was fading from his system, but it was replaced by vertigo. Staring up felt so much like staring down.

His throat constricted while choking on a sound.

Was this it? Was it time for him to die? He wondered what he meant by time anyway.

What was keeping him alive? Keeping him together?

Self identity was lost alongside the dissipation of optimism. Fleeting ideals and expectations of life winked out of existence, leaving behind a sensation of dishonesty. The betrayal of this crypt, this morgue, this tomb only further instilled the disconnection.

A dream, a fantasy, or a hallucination. The difference was unimportant.

Painfully, yet numbing, the inky blackness crept over him, through him, in him. The blood was forgotten and replaced by a cold that ate at his innards. Torturous freedom ate at his cells, preserving, killing, reinventing. Freedom of the most divine sort, unparalleled in its brutality. Gone were the inhibitions. Gone were the responsibilities. With nothing to spare and nothing to claim, he was more free than thought possible. But at what cost? The denial of normality?

What was normal?  
What was _this_?

In the darkness, he shifted.

In opposition, the air condensated around him.

The sharp tang of blood invade his nostrils. Was it his own? Yet how could it be if he wasn't injured?

"Shut up, Vegeta."

It was fainter than a whisper, but in the way you hear in a dream. He opened his mouth to reply, but it felt like his voice had congealed.

"If you think this is something to be proud of you're gonna learn."

He could no longer differentiate if his eyes were open or not.

"You're gonna pay.. someday..."

He would make pretend he was someone, at least that would keep him sane for a little while. But he knew that soon enough he would need an escape. He would need a lie, or he'd need a truth.

Or else all hope for Vegeta was lost.


	17. seventeeN 17

Nowhere: 17

Left, right, left, right, ad infinitum.

This simple action occupied the dead time - the span between this now and the now of the future.

His breath was a mist in the air. Behind the white puffs exhaled, the landscape altered, but slowly, almost languidly. Stretching across the land were sporadic rows of stone columns surrounded by scare and scattered patches of dry, dead grass as brown as caramel.

The further he walked the less invasive his breath became until the air matched its hue. A wave of vast disorientation hit him. The cessation of lung movement and the nip of frostbite went unnoticed as all attention was directed towards an uncomfortable object.

A structure vastly ornate stood proudly, outlined by a haze of muted clouds looking dank and yellow. The promise of precipitation loomed in the blotchy depths and cast strange shadows on the tremendously Gothic construction. It reminded him of a church, yet it seemed more like a house of mourning than a house of praise.

The atrocity beckoned him, frightening him with the erosion of willpower. He shifted to pivot, but one foot jutted forward, and, not to be outdone, the other foot copied. Pitifully he ignored the risk he placed himself in by pressing forward to explore the bowels of this building.

Vegeta ducked his head back to his chest in an attempt to conserve warmth. Tendrils of fog crept and curled across the ground, weaving around his legs like some fluid creature. Foreboding gripped him – terrorized him. His head tilted back to gaze upward. The towers shrank into the distance of the sky until the clouds ate them. Merely trying to fathom the summit made him nearly swoon. He caught his balance while recovering from the dizzy spell.

No birds. No scavengers.

Since leaving the city – Kakarot – behind, he hadn't encountered another life form. The solitude was taking its toll and he strode quickly to the building.

Its monumental size had misguided his optics and it took longer than the brunet had estimated to arrive.

He stood before it, finally.

Shaky hands lifted and extended towards the stone wall, gently breaking a layer of silken thread, dirt, and dust. An unseen pressure weighed upon him as he located a door behind the tacky substance. The enormity of the threshold was staggering, yet he saw no handles to gain entrance. Pushing hard, Vegeta found his efforts fruitless. Inspecting further he noticed exactly why he could not open the door.

It was so simple.

It was not a door.

The engravings seemed to mock him as if it was his fault he could no decipher them. Faintly, he experienced a sense of rejection.

A feeling manifested itself transforming into a burning, angry desire to rid himself of this facade. He wanted it in ruins. He wanted it burnt and demolished. He wanted to revel in destruction.


	18. 18

**Nowhere: 18**

"I really hate to say this, and I mean, I really hate to say this," he began rather reluctantly, "but I don't have any clothes to wear, I'll have you know."

Kakkarot gave him a small, restrained grin, but said nothing in response thereby sparing the other man from any joke his mind could have possibly developed. Instead, he gestured for Vegeta to follow him, which the prince did. Within a few seconds they were within the master bedroom - a place the prince had never seen before. It was a mess, like the rest of the apartment.

The box springs for the bed were upright and leaning against the left corner of the room while the mattress was a stained, lumpy heap in the middle. The dresser on the back wall had most of its drawers open or falling out, and clothes dangled from the wooden edges either half-drug out or flung there. Cartons and packages empty of cigarettes were scattered everywhere, but the place was devoid of any remnants of the vile cancer sticks, as no filter was in sight. Porno mags were half concealed beneath anything they could lurk under. They could have actually been magazines of other natures, but Vegeta merely assumed and didn't bother to look closely to confirm or deny his suspicion.

Climbing over the mounds of junk, Kakkarot searched through his drawers while Vegeta patiently waited at the door. After passing the smell test, the black-haired man handed him an outfit.

"No way," Vegeta instantly retaliated as he examined the articles he had been given.

"What? What's wrong"? Kakkarot replied.

"This," Vegeta growled, "I'm not wearing this." He held up a pair of black cotton briefs.

"Why not? What's wrong with them?" Kakkarot asked, looking naturally and honestly confused.

Vegeta glared at him, "There has to be something else."

"Nothing clean," Kakkarot said in response with a shrug, "It's not a big deal. Besides, chicks dig black, so you should dig that. You know, black's the new pink. And they like pink."

"Whatever," Vegeta snapped, storming off to his bedroom to get dressed. He wondered for a moment if he should go commando or not, but, after standing with the briefs half-pulled up for roughly a minute, he felt stupid enough to finish the process. The other clothing was very inoffensive - a black t-shirt and some plain jeans. "The shower's been free," Vegeta called out as he slipped on a pair of socks in his doorway.

"Oh yeah! Thanks!" Kakkarot shouted back as he raced into the bathroom. The brunette headed for the kitchen with the intention of having a snack and some peaceful time alone. As the shower came on, it seemed to him that he'd get some reading in. Picking up a fashion magazine, he sighed silently and opened it up only to have a loud voice interrupt his concentration.

"Does he love me, I wanna know! How can I tell if he loves me so?" Kakkarot's voice came from the bathroom, "Is it in his eyes? Oh no, you'll be deceived! Is it in his eyes? Oh no, he'll make believe! If you wanna know, if he loves you so, it's in his kiss! That's where it is!"

Vegeta grit his teeth together while thinking to himself, "He's doing this to me on purpose." He stood with a new purpose instilled within him. Just then, however, there was a knock on the door. At that moment, Kakkarot seemed to be going into second verse, so he decided to spare him the trouble and answer the visitor's call.

He swung open the door and stared calmly at the barrel of the gun pointed at his head. Finally, he sighed and shouted over his shoulder, "KAKKAROT! THE DOOR'S FOR YOU!" He shut the wooden object and lounged out on the couch. Strutting shamelessly, the black-haired man bounded out of the bathroom and swung open the door.

"Hello!" he said, smiling at the owner of the gun and not the gun itself, "How can I help you?"

"G-Give me all your money," the startled man responded.

With a sort of skeptical look Kakkarot used his eyes to gesture to his current state of dress, or lack thereof. "Well, you can take whatever you want in here, but I don't think you want it," Kakkarot offered and pulled the door open wide for the thief.

"'Evening, Kakkarot!" an older lady called out as she slowly made her way past.

"Good evening, Mrs. Trechenbauer! Did David's operation go ok?" he replied jovially.

"Yes, he can meow like an alley cat again. Nice to see you in good condition yourself, there," she practically snickered.

"Ah.. that's what you think! I'll put three dollars on your tab; this isn't a free show, you know," Kakkarot said with a grin. Then realization came to him, "Oh yeah! Sir, are you gonna come in or what?" The gun owner stood, flabbergasted.

Vegeta interjected, "Why are you inviting him in? He's threatening our lives and you want to offer him a reward?"

Kakkarot sighed and responded, "Vegeta, times are tough. It doesn't matter if he takes my things, most of them were stolen anyways."

"And outdated," noted the man sourly. Kakkarot looked from Vegeta to the empty doorway to the stranger, then he shut the door with a shrug.

"Mind getting dressed?" Vegeta asked, his gaze anywhere but at Kakkarot.

"Not at all," the black-haired man smiled as he headed over to the kitchen and snagged himself a bag of sugar cookies. While munching on one, he plopped down into a worn-out beanbag chair. "Is there something you'd like to eat or drink?" Kakkarot asked the stranger.

"Why are you even asking?" Vegeta was irritated.

"I wouldn't be a proper host if I didn't," Kakkarot said, finishing off his snack. He then noticed the brunette staring intently at him. He followed the gaze to his chest where his scar still glistened from the shower. He raised an eyebrow and returned the look.

"I'm out," the prince abruptly said, heading towards the door.

"Vegeta! Wait! Don't go out on your own!" Kakkarot pleaded.

The door slammed in the prince's wake.


	19. neunzehn

This chapter is best viewed at the location below:  
www . gotyaoi . com / felix / lit / nowhere19 . html  
(Delete spaces and then you have the correct address.)

**Nowhere: 19**

I am nothing more than a broken object.

This feels like the end, every second, over again.

Let me waste away, this wasted thing, this person who isn't a person. Let me hold onto this useless truth that neither condemns me nor saves me.

Nothing. There's nothing.

Worship the everlasting darkness, the all-consuming monstrosity, the opaque impossibilities, the sensory overloads. Worship it and still fall, still fail, still be consumed by it and haunted by it. Worship it and be punished as if you weren't. Worship it and feel the meaningless betrayal.

I stand in the epitome of insanity.

This implies the insanity is a possession.  
This causes another question.

Nothing living lives here. Only the dead speak, and even they do not exist.

This is the glory of mortality.

Hidden behind the unnaturalality and confusion and false witness upon this land, there is me. Singular. Separate. Segregated. Alone.

I feel guilty.

If this is guilt I feel.

You're slowly losing it, aren't you?

Forget all you know. Toss it out. Throw it away.

Rip yourself into shreds and dance on the remains. It's the only option now.

Don't think of this as suicide, but more like a mercy killing.

I have nothing. I am nothing, and there is nothing for me. It is time for this to stop.

To whom is may concern: I'm sorry.


	20. 20TWENTY20

**NOWHERE: 20TWENTY.**

He arrives unanticipated, undetectable, and abruptly. The man's first reaction is to survey the surroundings and interpret what he can. He notes the cold immediately as the cool rain drizzles upon his form, dampening his clothes and skin. He walks cautiously around the immediate area before stopping his movements all together. He closes his eyes and concentrates, feeling with his mind, body, and spirit. He reaches out, trying to grasp what he hopes to be there, what should be there no matter how faint...

GET OUT NOW. RUN.

A dying pulse far away ebbs pathetically. He makes that his goal, his complete center of attention. He places two fingers to his forehead, and is gone.

LEAVE THIS PLACE.

He comes to his destination. A prone figure, the form of a male, was on the ground. He is instantly to him when he sees him face down. The stranger lifts the lither figure out of the puddle and cradles his weak flesh with care. He checks for breathing, he checks for a pulse, and he is relieved.

It is time for him to depart, and he intends to take this new companion with him. This man he knows, but no longer knows. This man with pale skin and dark clothes looks fragile, so he holds him close. The visitor wonders what has happened, and where exactly they are. He sees no one else. He senses no one else.

flee, please, for my sake...

He would return them both home now, and all would be well.

Kakkarot was taking Vegeta home.


	21. twntyone

**Nowhere: twnty-one**

The reemergence was a rather quiet one as the gravity of the situation was somehow palpable. Excitement was there, as well as curiosity, but a solemn mood overcast it all. There were many questions lurking, almost wishing to not be answered. The initial happiness was jaded as the unconscious figure lurched, shivering. His transport looked at him in worry and supported his form. The smaller man was trembling, and Kakkarot did not approve. A groan, a spark of awareness, and then Vegeta heaved - emptying his stomach of whatever bile resided there. Dark liquid spewed forth onto the tiled ground, Vegeta's form shaking as the remnants dripped from the corner of his mouth and bottom lip. Somewhere in the background, someone complained about the stench.

Carefully, he was carried away to rest. The black-haired man tucked him in as he watched with brows knit and worry filling him.

Death.

He smelled too much of death.

Vegeta slept in a warm, comforting darkness. He awoke hours later in an unfamiliar place. His eyes looked across the hazy ceiling, and slowly he sat up in order to examine his surroundings. The room was large and painted a soft, pale blue. It was sparsely decorated with a vase here and there. He inhaled deeply, but smelt nothing of the humidity that had plagued him for so long.

Pulling the white sheets away from his body, he got out of bed, slowly padding his way towards what appeared to be the exit.

During this time, a band of friends were discussing the very man who had just roused. His physical state brought some distress, and theories about his disappearance were casually bounced back and forth. An outskirt at the edge of the conversation, a man named Krillin, happened to glance to the side when something caught his eye.

"Guys," he spoke up, trying to gather their attention, "Guys look..! It's Vegeta..."

A good distance away, the brunette walked in the direction of the ledge. Abruptly, he stopped and collapsed to his knees as his frame was wracked with sobs.

As one, they rushed to his side.

"Vegeta!" Kakkarot called out, fearing the worst, "Vegeta, what's wrong?"

"Kakkarot?" a stunned reply, and then he turned to see it with his own eyes, gaping. Tears streaked across his bleary-looking face, dark puffy bags under his eyes. Courage came to him, and he spoke again, "Kakkarot, am I in Heaven?"

Goku's eyes widened in surprise, and he faltered only for a moment, "What? Heaven? No.."

Vegeta wiped away some tears with the heel of his hand, "I'm not dead? Kakkarot..?" The other Saijin joined him on the ground.

"No, you're not dead, Vegeta," he said softly. He was about to inquire more when the shorter man burst into nervous laughter.

"You must think I'm stupid," Vegeta's voice nearly cracked, and his throat constricted as his gaze returned outward, "but... it's.. it's so beautiful."

"What?" Goku was confused.

"The sky!" Vegeta said as another sob was ripped from him. Tears ran down his smiling face. "Let this be real," he pleaded, he prayed, "Please, let this be real."

Goku, at once, realized that something was very, very wrong.


	22. 20 & two

**Nowhere; 20 & two**

It was on the eve of the third day that he stumbled into new land. The grass had simply faded away to dirt, and from there the pebbles and rocks grew in size the farther he traveled. The color seemed to dissapate from the sky the further he progressed along. The muted yellow darkened to a dank green, and the clouds were a haze which appeared so dense that they began to sink from their glorious heights till they laced the ground, hiding the distance.

Feebly, he used his hands to rub his upper arms, trying to keep his body temperature at a reasonable level. It was a difficult task, especially at night when what little warmth there was available vanished. He paused at the mere memories of being the in the darkness by himself.

Afraid to sleep. Him. Vegeta.

...Whatever implications were for that name, he did not know, and at that particular juncture in time, he failed to care.

He found himself in unknown territory, and now presented to the man was a mass cemetary. As if from the fog itself the graves appeared - hundreds, perhaps thousands, extending themselves towards the grey horizon. The bleak tombstones presented burials, but there were no mounds to substantiate, to confirm, what they so proclaimed.

Liars.

He half-walked, half-stumbled across the taxing expanse. Collapsed headstones, white-washed from wind and rain, along with what appeared to be rubble made the composition of the ground. If he could just get past this, if he could just find someone...

His heart fell at the thought, ashamed at his fallacy. He had left Kakkarot.. Abandoned him?

He tripped as his attention shifted, and to right himself, he clung to a tombstone. He froze in place, his eyes fixated on the unblemished marker. It was cold and dry like ice, causing his fingers to stick. He stared, his heart beat pounding in his chest, his blood rushing in his ears. Something was more than wrong here. Of course, he knew that already, didn't he? But something had changed, some type of role had been shifted.

This wasn't just about being wrong, or being disurbing; this was about morphing into a threat, a danger. It felt as if the ground beneath his feet shifted. His eyes moved to the soil but snapped back up as a movement caught his eye. The stone crumbled before him, revealing a small portion of itself. The engraving, the words seemed like an open, festering wound:

HERE LIES THE GUILTY

R.this/vegeta,wasforgave


	23. 23

Nowhere: 23

I awaken to the same strange room and I have to wonder: Where am I?

This place... it looks.. it feels so different than.. than where ever I had been before. Is it possible I was found? Kakkarot is here now.

Kakkarot! He was gone? He was.. like an angel? What? Why don't I know?

I climb out of bed, not bothering to dress myself properly. What difference does it make? My stomach is growling. My form is wracked, weak, from hunger pangs. When was the last time I have eaten? I remember vaguely throwing up. Was that perhaps a dream? It felt like Kakkarot was there.

This place is like a labyrinth, but reminds me nothing of one. I..already know of one..? I'm probably tired from my travels. I have traveled, haven't I? I will eat, and rest. Things will come back to me, I'm sure. Kakkarot will enlighten me, no doubt.

I hear voices and I head in that direction. I enter a room three times the size of the one I was sleeping in. A large rectangular table seats a group of people. I scan across their faces and pay them no other mind. It is disconcerting how their conversation has stopped, but I hope if I ignore them long enough, they will get the picture and leave their gazes to themselves. I walk calmly towards the fridge, open it, and take out the milk. I search the cabinets, and a few minutes later I am rewarded with a bowl, and then, cereal. Among the drawers, I find a spoon. With my breakfast ready, I turn around once more.

They stare at me, watching every little move that I make. Well, their attention could be focused on the fact that I am not fully dressed. I glance down at myself: black t-shirt, white socks.. I tug up the cotton top to reveal black briefs. I flush, knowing this is not my choice taste in underwear. Looking back at the group I decide maybe the best thing is to keep my distance.

Sitting indian style on the ground, I eat my meal, giving them my own dirty looks. Their interest is partially detached, except for one woman who continuously keeps her eyes on me.

Yes, here I am, the freak show. Go ahead and gawk. Whatever.

My stomach is satisfied with the pathetic ration. I rise to put my used dish on the counter top. After that is accomplished, I turn to them once more.

"What?" I ask sternly. No response is given. "Stop staring at me," I demand.

Vegeta, I tell myself, just ignore them and maybe they'll go away.

Funny, I feel like I've been searching for people for so long, but now it's so.. awkward. I'd almost rather be alone.

Now, I wonder where Kakkarot is?


	24. 2 4

**Nowhere: 2...**

He searches, but searches not for the thing he entirely desires. His desire is a new desire, though his desire is of the same, the desire itself has changed.

The hallways are long, open, wide, refreshing. He feels rejuvenated in a sense, a slight bounce to his step. The wind feels nice, so he peels off his shirt to feel the breeze.

His wandering leads him down steps, and out into the open. A garden blossoms with vibrant green holding lush fauna. A rare smile quirks his lips as he admires the scenery.

Suddenly, he is very aware of the warmth upon him, and he closes his eyes, basking in the moment. Without a care, he discards his last article of clothing. For him, this is nirvana - he has reached a level of divinity, and he knows not how or why. He lounges on the tiles, lying on his back. His ebony eyes open to gaze with wonder and admiration at the expanse blue before him. To him, what this is does not matter. To him, at least this forces the nightmares away. Forgetting the reason behind the forgetting. He piles upon more difficulties with simple, dangerous hope.

He cares not for time, letting it pass. He cares not about his unanswered questions. The respite has caused the ache to fade. The natural beauty eases the male's pains - smoothes worries from his brow, and invites sleep.

For the first time in a long time, this man feels content by himself. For the first time in a long time, he feels alive.


	25. 52

**Nowhere?52**

I enter the room and all goes quiet. "What?" I ask, wondering why they're looking so awkward.

"Vegeta was just here," Bulma announces. No one else says a word.

Maybe they're disoriented by the smell. They must notice it too. Then again, who can't? Even to a human, death is still a strong, pungent odor. They probably don't pick up the tendrils of _death_, but more likely the putrid stench of _decay_. Like his vomit the moment I brought him back. They may not have thought much of it, but when a Saiyan retches a black, tar-like substance, it's not natural. It worries me considerably. That and the matter of time execution between us and the Earth.

"Where'd he go?" I end the pause, hoping for progress.

"I.. don't know," Bulma admits.

Fine, I'll find him myself. It shouldn't be that hard since his ki is stronger now...

Yup, he's just a bit to the South, in the garden.

I walk leisurely, wondering how to approach him. Hey Vegeta, I know you're in shock, but can you explain to me what's going on? I didn't seem like the thing to say. He seems to be nutritionally deprived, and hygienically as well. It's like he went through Hell, but one more terrifying than the one we know - a fire and brimstone kind of Hell, except the exact opposite. It wasn't pits and fire; it was flatlands, hills, and cold rain. It's odd that no one was there, except Vegeta.

Why did he think this was Heaven? And he was crying, but his explanation is so.. weird. What's wrong with him? Why did he-

My thoughts are cut off as I find the subject of my inner turmoil. Dozing in the nude, he looks so peaceful. I frown slightly, noticing that he is thinner than before, that his skin does not carry that bronze hue that it once had and his muscles are not as well defined. Still, things need to be resolved, and that cannot be done just by mere examination, regardless that his lean form does show evidence - proof - of his malnutrition. I kneel next to him.

"Vegeta," I say gently as I nudge his shoulder slightly, "Vegeta, wake up."

His eyes blink and slowly focus. He rubs his face while inhaling briskly. He stretches, yawning, drowsiness still on his features. "Kakkarot?" he murmurs. I nod. Suddenly, he snaps up. Completely aware of his surroundings, he covers his naked body while glaring ferociously at me, "Hey you! Peeping Kakkarot.. no free shows!"

My eyes widen at the prospect, "Vegeta! I'd never check you out!"

"Sure.. not intentionally, right?"

"Yes! I mean no! I mean-!"

He freezes abruptly and his expression contorts. I wish to ask him what is the matter, but I don't dare disturb him in this state. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, he turns to me, "Well, whatever. Go get me some clothes then?"

"What happened to the ones you were wearing?"

"Hey IDIOT, I guess I must've taken them off, EH?"

I make a face which I assume appears to be a cross between pouting, confusion, pain, and interest. It must look amusing because Vegeta chuckles at me. "Don't laugh!" I protest while wrapping each arm to the opposite waist side and hooking fingers into the fabric there, "Just because I make muddled up expressions.. Maybe I wouldn't if you didn't say such.. funky things."

"Oh, whatever."

I want to make that face again, but instead I just lift my arms up, taking my shirt with it. I hand him the orange gi. He gives me a few suspicious glances, but dons the apparel I offer him. It's too big and baggy on him, the sleeves extending to his elbows; the good part of this, however, is that it hangs to mid-thigh.

"Vegeta, we have to talk.."

"Who were those people?" he interrupts.

"What people?"

"The people in the.. dining room, I suppose."

"What? Vegeta? What do you mean?"

"I mean: Who were they? They kept staring at me like I was a freak show - the blue-haired one especially."

Oh, shit.


	26. 26

**Nowhere: 26**

"Vegeta, you're joking, right?" Goku hesitantly asked with hope glimmering faintly in the back of his mind. The prince's idle stare was answer enough, but still, there was that chance. "Vegeta?" he asked again, feeling a shiver run up his spine from the sudden drop in body heat.

"I don't think I have a sense of humor anymore," the brunette informed, or admitted, Goku couldn't tell which. His eyes narrowed suspiciously before they hardened into a glare, finishing his thought, "And I don't like what you're insinuating." That took the younger man aback.

Curiosity got the best of him, and he replied, "What do you mean? I wasn't insinuating anything."

"You imply that I know those people!" Vegeta shot back, looking offended, "Look, if I'm dead, fine. Tell me. I can take it. I don't care."

Goku merely gaped while grasping desperately for something to say. There was nothing until the shock wore off. "I didn't lie to you," Goku reaffirmed what he had said the previous day, "You aren't dead, and this isn't Heaven."

"Hmm," Vegeta said in response. An uneasy silence crept upon them and it stole any trace of comfort.


	27. siebenundzwanzig

**Nowhere:** sieben-und-zwanzig

He was alone. Before he even opened his eyes, he could tell that we was alone. Desperately, achingly alone.

All by himself, he wanted nothing but to overcome the haunting. This haunting. He felt sick. The terminal kind. And weak.

He had no defense to (t)his intangible nemesis. The darkness stole his only bit of salvation - for you can be held on high if you confront your fears. That option was refused, so instead he moved on.

If you can't beat it, join it...?

He was an anomaly: something living, breathing and yet inanimate, intangible. This made the loneliness grow; the pain of social disconnection was unbearable. Rejection at once, and he become nothing more than a person, a thing. This made no sense.

He was consumed. By darkness - all kinds - he was consumed. Denial. He could overcome this.

But he was alone, broken and sick, weak.. The cold seeped into his bones like a phantom.

Little prince, little prince... let me in?

No, this was not to be. His Heaven would be revoked, which was something he'd already known and expected. Hallucination, maybe. He never wanted to wake, but he had no choice, no control.

He was alone, but somehow he felt a presence slip away into the shadows of the shadows. He called out, an echo, "Kakkarot!"

"Akkarot! ..Akkarot!..."

"Rot!...Rot! ...Rot..."

What did it want? He would not allow it. Did it take Kakkarot?

He would not allow it.

A blessing and a curse?

"They lie."

It came for him anyways, and he could feel it under the nothingness, taste it in the flavorless air, smell it in the vacuum of the soul, and see it with blinded eyes.

More than words, but the meaning behind them:  
It is not what you are, but what you can become.

All alone, he heard a voice. Like a bitten outcry, it whispered in his ear behind him,

"...Kakkarot!"


	28. zwanzig und acht

Nowhere; zwanzig und acht

Throwing open the door, Goku rushed to the bedside. He knelt down and asked, "Vegeta, what is it? What's wrong?"

"Kakkarot!" the prince shuddered while shaking his head in misery, "It was like a nightmare, or-or-or.. or it was real, or it was just a dream or it's the truth. I don't know! I don't know!" In a fit of hysteria, he began to sob.

Shocked, the black-haired man instantly responded with his first inclination to anyone in this state of distress - he took the other man into his arms. He held him gently, rubbing his back while he spoke smoothly and steadily, "Shh, it's ok. You're here with me now. I won't let anything happen to you. It was just a bad dream."

"Kak..karot..?" the name came out broken.

"Yes?" was the soft reply.

Goku was instantly shoved away by the older man. With downcast eyes, Vegeta visibly seethe from anger. "I'm not weak!" he spat out in disgust, "I'm just... just..."

"Just?" Goku inquired.

Vegeta sat, not responding.

The younger Saiyan lightly placed his hand on the prince's shoulder. Instantly, Vegeta repeated, "I'm not weak! I.. I don't need your pity. I'm just..." A pause. "I'm just troubled."

"Troubled," Goku repeated.

"Confused.." Vegeta elaborated.

"About what?"

Another pause - this one accompanied by a sigh. "Everything."

"Well.. maybe I can help?" Goku asked hopefully. The brunette laughed at his naivety. "Hey!" Goku appeared offended by the lack of faith, "You don't know if I can or not! Why don't you start by telling me what this dream was about?" Vegeta bristled at the change of topic.

"I..." he trailed off as his face paled, "I had been..."

_Nowhere._

"And I..." he cleared this throat, "..was alone."

With the haunting. With himself?

"And then I... _was_ it..?.."

"Was what?" Goku interrupted.

"I don't know!" Vegeta suddenly yelled at him, "It took it all away and then it tried to steal you!"

Trying to follow Vegeta's broken dialogue, Goku asked, "But you were it?"

"NO!" Vegeta cried out as he fisted his hands into his brown hair, "I can't! I'd no longer be Vegeta!" Immediately after the words spilled from his mouth, he began to shed tears. In between his broken sobs he yelled hoarsely, "No.. No! It's lie! I'm no longer Vegeta, am I? Would I be, if I were it? I don't know! Goddamnit, goddamnit, GODDAMNIT! I don't know who Vegeta is!"

Goku's eyebrows knit together in serious concentration and concern, "No, Vegeta, you have to calm down. Tell me what has happened. Explain what happened to you."

Explain?

Who was holding the answers?

"Fuck you!" Vegeta abruptly spat, "I'm tired of this bullshit!"

Glancing around, he spotted the bed post. He effectively pulled the metal end off and tried to pass the pipe-like object to Goku. "Here!" he urged, "You want to help me? Bash my head in! Hit me till I fucking stop bleeding!"

Goku, mortified, backed away from the older man. Vegeta followed him with his pupils suddenly dilated and his skin a sickly color, "Please, Kakkarot..." Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. Everything about the room abruptly felt different though Goku couldn't describe to himself why. It was almost as if he was in a different room that was identical in every way to the previous.

The prince shivered and hunched over. He held his stomach as he collapsed onto his knees. He groaned in agony, eyes shut tight, and desperately fought back more tears. "Vegeta?" Goku called out wearily, though he was ready to assist him at any notice.

"Explain.. what happened.. to me?" the prince choked out breathily as his hands fisted into the sheets. He made a broken sound that could have been a laugh or a sob, "Then you tell me. You tell me who you think.. who you think Vegeta is."

An epiphany. Vegeta was no longer Vegeta. Goku no longer knew who Vegeta was, because the man before him only bore his appearance. Or maybe...

Maybe this _was_ Vegeta. More Vegeta than Vegeta. Simply... Vegeta.

Past the callous exterior and raging vehemence.. Past the bitter grudges and insatiable thirst for power and dominance..

Yeah, this was Vegeta. This was Vegeta who forgot how heavy his heart had been with anger. This was Vegeta who forgot the importance of his heritage.

Goku realized that this saddened him for some reason.

The brunette began to heave, and then he vomited. His body was shaking from the intense pain as he tried not to collapse. Again, the thick black liquid oozed from his mouth. Acting as if on instinct, Goku pulled the smaller man away from the substance. He held him as Vegeta gasped for air.

"Deus ex machina?" Vegeta laughed under his breath.


	29. 29

Nowhere: 29

"What was all the noise?" she asks me. I continue on without giving a response. My brain feels like a tank trying to navigate a labyrinth at light speed. My footsteps sound heavy in the empty hall. "Hey, Goku!" she cries out, indignant, "I asked you a question!" And I am not deaf, nor dumb, nor mute.

I am.. petrified. I have never felt so consumed than I do now with this unknown terror. Something has burrowed deep into my heart, planting its seeds of mortification and bitter determination along with it. I would never have questioned it, but some of the things Vegeta said began to make me wonder...

It takes seven days to get there, and only three hours to get back. Same spatial distance. Same conditions. Just different times.

"Goku!" Bulma yells now, grabbing my arm, "Tell me what's going on!"

I answer honestly, "I don't know." But I intend to find out.

"Where's Vegeta?" her voice is calmer now, but she cannot hide the deep emotion in her voice. She is scared for him, but he is scared enough for the both of them.

"I left him in the garden," I answer with the hope that she will abandon me. And then I sense something from her, and I'm not sure why, but my first inclination is that I must crush it before she makes a mistake. That somehow, if I let her feel and believe whatever she's feeling and believing in this moment, she could make a horribly irrevocable mistake that will destroy him. "Leave him alone," I command.

I wonder.. do I sound defensive?

Her eyes flicker through several expressions within a second, but I merely strengthen my resolve, "He _needs_ to be alone right now. You can see him later." I am denying her the right to see the father of her child. I must seem cruel, but I feel as if this is vitally necessary.

"Where are you going?" she asks darkly and with an edge of suspicion. She was always smarter than me, more cunning, more.. perceptive.

"To find some answers," I reply vaguely on purpose. Let her wonder. This isn't her business. This is about Vegeta, and Vegeta alone.

"And what should I tell Chi-chi?" aggravation creeps into her voice.

"Whatever you'd like," I say flatly. Even I have my limit to patience, and even I have an end to my rope. I wonder if I'm affected because Vegeta is affected. Our mental connection - our Saiyan telepathy - could help us in a fight. Yet.. it can be a double-edged sword, can't it? It can hinder as well, and maybe I feel like this because it's an indication of how Vegeta feels. Or maybe.. it's a warning.

Beware, Goku: Something's out to get you.

Something that's already gotten Vegeta.

So maybe this is the beginning of a fortification, a resistance. If I can help Vegeta, then perhaps I can protect myself.

Maybe it isn't just about Vegeta, maybe this isn't about my safety, or me. Maybe this is about us. The last two Saiyans alive.

Or we're just part of the larger, grander picture. We, ourselves, are so small. Yet, so direly important. Fragile. Fragile little keys to this mystery. And if we perish, then no one shall know the truth. Where are these thoughts coming from?

It's possible I'm being too conceited. This is probably just about Vegeta. This is probably none of my business.

For the Prince of Saiyans, however, I will make it my business.

It started at King Kai's, so that is where I shall go next.


	30. thirty

Nowhere: thirty

"Oh, sing sweet nightingale.. sing sweet nightingale.. high.. above me..."

This was Heaven, and an angel was singing him a lullaby.

"Oh, sing sweet nightingale..."

Marked by evil, but kind and comforting as a savior should be. He was safe now.

"Sing sweet nightingale..."

He dreamt of a better time, of a life that was not his own. (Or no longer his own?) Disorientation was so nice, so non-threatening. It barely mattered anymore. Not when that voice whispered in his ear.

"Oh, sing sweet..."


	31. XXXI

**Nowhere: XXXI**

He sat alone in the empty white while being cushioned by an equally white sofa. Heaven's waiting room: a special place for special people who are lucky enough to be allowed free council with the gods. Son Goku had just sought out the North Quadrant Kai, and had had his worry confirmed. It was now given a right to exist because there was reason backing it up. Now his terror had spread, and his entire entity bewildered and numbed with shock and denial.

How can I tell Vegeta? he thought.

He knew he could not. There was no way to explain this. It was barely, feebly, understood as it was. He himself was afraid of the situation, much less the results and consequences if he informed the Saiyan prince.

This was too much.

He threaded his fingers into his hair as anxiety wore at his nerves. The sheer prospect of what had occurred made him feel.. many things. Ill, scared, and helpless were some of the foremost contenders. He had no idea how to approach _this_, or Vegeta for that matter. Vegeta, his enemy, his rival..

The way the prince treated him now had so drastically changed from before. So much trust was punctuated when his Saiyan name was called.

Not that Goku minded at all. In fact, he invited it. It was refreshingly different from the cold scowl, the taunts and jeers. In a way, though, it was almost worse. It made the complications he'd been silently enduring stand out in sharp relief.

Why did it have to be Vegeta?

He sat for a moment, not really knowing what he was thinking or feeling. He just sat.

A realization came to him, that he would do all in his power to help the other man, regardless of the risk that was involved.

And what would he tell the others? Could they handle the truth? If it did this to him, then how would they react? Vegeta could not know. That wasn't even an option.

A paper cup was extended in front into his line of vision. Looking up, he saw his Kai there, insisting for the cup to be taken. The water inside sloshed, and Goku gratefully took the offering. "Thanks," he whispered, uncertain how well his voice would react to a higher volume. He swallowed the liquid - downing the entire thing. King Kai took a seat next to him on the couch.

"I figured you wouldn't have gone back yet," the god said as he clasped his hands together.

"I need to.. gain my composure," Goku explained.

"I understand completely," King Kai replied, "Even I'm not sure what to make of this."

"I will stay by his side," the Saiyan suddenly proclaimed, "I don't expect anyone to understand.. but I am bound to him."

Silence save for the gentle hum of machinery.

"I trust your judgment," the Kai eventually said with a weak smile, "Besides, Vegeta needs you." Carelessly, the Dixie cup fell from Goku's hands, making a light hollow sound when it hit the tiled floor. "Are you okay, Goku? You're shaking," the blue-skinned man observed.

Fumbling to pick up the item, Goku found himself blushing from embarrassment. He'd never let his control slip quite this badly. However, he answered honestly, "I'm more scared than I've ever been in my entire life."

King Kai looked at him with a penetrating gaze, "Of what?" The god looked fascinated and concerned by the fact that something could upset Son Goku so terribly.

The black-haired man seemed to ponder the question for a moment. He spoke softly, "Losing Vegeta."

There was another pause before King Kai pointed out, "He was your enemy, you know."

"_Was._"

"And still could be."

Goku shook his head and turned his gaze to the paper cup in his hands, "Even you know better than that. Even you know that's not a possibility anymore."

"And you should know better from the information that we've just gained, that nothing is ever impossible."

The hum of the ceiling fans and the occasional gurgle of the water cooler reigned the sound of the room for quite some time. The god eventually placed his hand on Goku's shoulder and squeezed lightly in an attempt to comfort. His mission failed, but the intentions were noted. Finally, the hero opted to speak, "What do you think I should tell the others?"

"The truth if you'd like, but, if you want my opinion, I would give them a half-truth."

"Which would be.. what exactly?"

"Tell them.. Tell them that Vegeta crash landed on a planet."

"And?"

"And that he has suffered from some damage inflicted on his mentality. That he has amnesia."

"Vegeta? Have amnesia? The man who nearly rivals my power?"

"Even you hit your head, Goku. They will not doubt your word."

"I was a kid at the time. And what if they do?"

"Then tell them your source is me. They will surely not doubt me."

"I don't like this. I don't like lying to them."

"So what, then? Would you tell them the whole truth instead?"

The notion practically gave Goku the chills. He merely shook his head.

King Kai got to his feet. Leaning over to look the Saiyan in the eyes, he said, "It's all up to you. I guess the only thing you should worry about is the consequences to your actions." The elder straightened himself as he prepared to leave.

Suddenly, Goku looked up at him earnestly, "King Kai?"

"Yes, Goku?"

"Do you, by chance, know what 'deus ex machina' means?"

"Deus ex machina.. deus ex machina..." King Kai repeated to himself. His face brightened a bit in recollection, "That's pretty ancient stuff from Earth, Goku. Greek, if I remember correctly. It means 'god from the machine'. Why do you ask?"

Goku did not seem inclined to answer.


	32. thirty2

**Nowhere: thirty2**

When Goku returned, he found the state of current affairs in disarray - and that was putting it nicely. His friends were in some sort of heated debate with insults mingling with rapid counter arguments that spewed forth from just about everyone's mouths. It didn't seem like a good omen, but he went ahead and asked, "What's going on? What's wrong?"

He was ignored, and yet, he didn't mind all that much. He knew if he allowed the stress to reach him now, he would simply snap. He didn't feel like raising his voice so he leaned into the circle and tugged on Bulma's shirt. She spun around, and, at the moment of seeing him, had her fury melt off of her face.

"Goku!" she shouted in half-surprise, half-relief. Yet there was a twinge of something else lingering in her voice. His instantly detected something awry and his eyes narrowed.

"What is it," he didn't inquire, but rather demanded, "Tell me now." The group fell silent at the gravity laced in his tone. Bulma could no longer meet his eyes. He didn't need to guess any further. He stated, "Something happened with Vegeta." He tried very hard to control his anger. "What did you do to him?"

Bulma regained her normal brash attitude, "Why don't you tell me what happened to him first?"

The sheer memory of his earlier conversation with the kai caused knots to twine his stomach. The thoughts that taunted the back of his mind made him feel queasy. As if reciting from a textbook, he told them the water-downed version of the truth, "Vegeta crash landed on a planet. He has amnesia."

After the words had erupted from his mouth, he felt glad that he took King Kai's advice. He actually felt better knowing that they were ignorant in this matter.

Panic suddenly frayed on the edges of his mind, "What happened to Vegeta?"

Bulma swallowed and spoke though it was obvious she was nervous and uncomfortable, "I talked to him."

Goku became stern, "I told you not to."

"Are you crazy?" she broke out of her timid state, "He went missing and I haven't seen him in months! I love him! Did you expect me to kick back while you have a chat with a buddy of yours?"

What Goku said next, she did not expect, "What does 'deus ex machina' mean?"

She was caught off-guard, "What?"

"Answer the damn question!" he swore as his reserves ran low. Everyone seemed to notice how high-strung he abruptly became. They kept their distance and their mouths shut.

The scientist stared at him hard for a moment before relenting. "It's Greek," she said while trying to ignore the heavy stare of her friend. Bulma felt very pressured, and pulling all the information she could recall, she continued, "It can either be translated as 'god from the machine' or 'a god from the machine'. It's used in play terminology." College, apparently, hadn't been a complete waste for her.

"What if you weren't talking about plays?" Goku began his theoretical question, "What if you were using it in everyday conversation?"

"You don't use it for everyday conversation, but.. I guess if you were talking about a situation - a specific one - mind you, you could use it in a different context."

"And the context meaning what?"

She stood for a moment and brooded, then replied with, "Hmm.. well, say if the calvary comes charging over the hill, that would be deus ex machina."

"So it's like a save?"

"More like.. an unexpected turn of events. Like a miracle."

"What if you apply the 'god from the machine' aspect?" Goku wondered aloud.

"What do you mean?"

The Saiyan was quiet for a moment, then he said softly, "Divine intervention."

"That would probably be considered 'deus ex machina', yes." When she noticed Goku not continuing, she inquired, "Why do you ask?"

"I don't have an answer for that yet."

"Bullshit," Bulma hissed. Goku offered her a very nasty look, and when it was reciprocated, he accepted the challenge. The black-haired man approached her with his voice low when he spoke.

"You don't want to see me angry, Bulma," he warned with unusually dark eyes, "so just tell me what happened."

Again, she didn't reply immediately, instead choosing for him to stew in his self-righteous anxiety for a moment, "I went to speak with Vegeta; to get him to socialize with all of us, but he just sort of.. flipped out."

"Why?"

"Yamcha provoked him."

"I did not!" the human burst in defense. Again, he conversation degenerated to what it was like when he first arrived.

"QUIET!" Goku yelled, and when compliancy was assured, he then turned his attention to the desert bandit, "What did you say to him?"

Yamcha was honestly confused, "I don't know."

"Repeat all that you can remember," Goku spoke more calmly and patiently now.

"Ok.. he was looking a little pale, ya know? So I asked him if he was ok, but he didn't really answer. I asked him how the training was going, but he didn't say anything about that either, so I asked him if he became a Super Saiyan yet, but he only looked at me. I just sort of looked back, and then I noticed he was wearing those clothes of his. So, I mentioned the fact that that wasn't his training attire. I said the briefs looked like something you'd wear. He just flipped out after that."

"So you said the clothes reminded you of me?"

"Yes."

Goku paused before making another inquiry. "What name did you use?" he asked.

"What?"

"You called me 'Goku', right?"

"Yeah... Funny thing now that you mention it. He didn't seem to comprehend who 'Goku' was, but after describing you, that's when he flipped."

"What happened?"

"Started screaming like a banshee. I can't remember it all, but he kept calling out your name."

Bulma suddenly interjected, "He basically kicked us out of the room." Her eyes met the younger Saiyan's, "I remember what he said then. He said: One Kakarot, two Kakarot, three Kakarot, four. Goddamn him, I hate that whore."


	33. EE

**Nowhere: EE**

"Vegeta!" I call out his name with the hope of hearing a response. I am not greeted with a reply, but I sense his ki somewhere close. "Vegeta!" I cry out again, then pause at a door frame as confusion overcomes me. It feels like he is here, but I do not see him.

"What?" he asks, dropping from the ceiling, yet suspending himself there. He's eye level with me, regardless of the fact that he's upside down, and we stare at one another.

"I'm a whore?" I ask while raising an eyebrow.

"Always was, always will be," he replies matter-of-factly.

I fold my arms and hold my ground, "Surely I haven't been sleeping around without being aware of it."

"Hn," he says, lacing his fingers and cupping his head with his hands, "Maybe." He pulls himself upward, flexing his muscles as he does a crunch. "Then again.." he continues, dropping back down once more, "Maybe not." He only offers a smirk.

Something is definitely wrong here. I'm surprised by his actions, but I know I shouldn't be. I try to get past his evasive statements by asking, "What happened?"

His eye visibly twitches - once - and he laughs a dangerous type of laugh while letting his arms dangle as he swings lightly back and forth. He laughs again, and it feels like a cold, uncharacteristic type of laugh, even for him. It reminds me of a desperate laugh, like an act of denial.

"Kakkarot is _GOKU_!" he screams suddenly and all at once his hands are reaching for my throat. For a moment, he's able to cut the air flow, but as I pull myself out of shock, I likewise pull his fingers off of my windpipe.

"Vegeta!" I gasp more from astonishment at his sudden mood swing than at the attack itself, "W-What the Hell?" He untwines himself from above and falls on me, causing us both to crash onto the ground. He takes advantage of my disorientation by crawling over me and pinning me to the tiled floor.

"GOKU! ...GOKU!" he yells at the top of his lungs with the vehemence in his voice echoing down the halls. My Earth name sounds so unnatural when it comes from his lips. His fist meets my face, and though it does hardly any damage, it still hurts physically and emotionally. I had believed that he was beyond attacking me. I guess I shouldn't be too upset over my vulnerability though. Who am I to judge him, right? Between his angry, unrelenting fist and the horribly chaotic bits of my conscious thought, I become aware that this situation is pushing me to a limit within myself that I never even knew existed.

"Who is Vegeta?" he cries out, "Do you know? DO YOU? **Because Vegeta doesn't know, Goku**!"

With these words, my mental state transcends and I let these foreign - no, repressed - emotions take reign. My hands grasp his wrists and with reckless speed I slam him onto his back. As I wrestle to sustain my place above, I'm able to vent these mounting frustrations on our physical struggle. Moments later, he is pinned beneath me, and I scream at him in retaliation, "Kakarot is my birth name! _I_ AM KAKAROT!" As soon as I say these words, I realize that I have never admitted them before, not even to myself really. But it is true. I am Kakarot. I _am_ Kakarot. I don't know how many more epiphanies I can take today.

We simply breathe together, heaving, gulping for air as our rage begins to leave us.

After some time, I release a sigh and relinquish his wrists in order to sit up. He stares at me from his place on the floor where his pupils begin to return to normal from their dilation. "What about Vegeta?" he asks in a hoarse whisper, "He's so sick of the lies." His breathing exaggerates and is almost claimed by hyperventilation. His eyes gather tears of frustration. I worry not only because of his near apathetic demeanor, but because of his sudden need to refer to himself in the third person.

"You are Vegeta," I say with conviction.

"Yes.." he admits dully.

Hesitantly, I question him. I want to see how far this went. On some level, I want to know how fucked up he really is or has become. I suppose I should feel ashamed of desiring such a thing, but I don't. Instead of worrying about the consequences, I simply ask, "You didn't know that some people call me Goku?"

I see a spark in his eyes, but I know better than to call it recognition. It fades quickly as a curt frown dominates his face. He does not make a sound. Rather, he merely lies under me with his breathing slowing and those dark, black eyes staring at me accusingly.

Oh, God... Vegeta, I cannot fathom what you might have experienced. I can't even begin to imagine what might have done this to you. I have no _real_ idea of where you were at and what being there has done to you. Am I lucky to have saved you at all?

I feel so saddened. Why? The answers aren't abundantly clear, but they start to materialize the longer I look at him.

..Because I didn't actually save him.

Because I'm hiding things from him, and everyone else for that matter.

Because, even though he punched me, I know he still trusts me.

Because I know he's in pain or danger or possibly both and I don't think I can protect him from either.

Because.. Because of so many more selfish reasons I don't even want to think about them, so I don't.

With a start, I clasp onto him while fisting his clothes into my hands. As a sob is torn from my throat, I try in vain to convince myself that there's no need to cry. That crying never solved anything. That I shouldn't be this distraught. But that doesn't stop the tears because everything from the last few days - every action, every thought since I went to find Vegeta - is compounded by this small breath of time where I know Vegeta is broken before me once more, just like in those moments before Freiza had murdered him. And, there's nothing I can do about it.

This is when I truly start to fully comprehend what's happening or what might have happened:  
I may have lost him.

And this isn't just a life and death thing. This is losing him _forever_.

I can't help but feel helpless. The thing I hate the most about this entire loss of control, is that, deep down, this state of being comes as a relief. I don't want to fail him. I don't want to fail Bulma, or my family, or my friends. I cannot accept this defeat, and that's why I weep.

Vegeta's surprise is evident, but he looks at me now with a gentler expression. My eyes burn in an unaccustomed way and my vision blurs as I start to choke on the air I try to breathe. I moan out my anguish, bury my face into his shoulder, and rock back and forth. Then, without warning, he starts to tremble, and he too is crying.

Two grown men wailing like little kids. If only they knew why.

Many minutes pass with us just clinging to each other, sniffling, shaking, and lost in our pain. Me and my failure. Him with his demons that I can't ward off.

Only we could understand this.

Only we could understand what we said without speaking.

Our chests eventually steady as a normal breathing rhythm returns and we simply lie there on the cool floor. Still no words could be fabricated that would express this.. thing between us. Worry and anxiety had melted away with the secession of our tears. Right here, right now.. we're here and we're actually ok and everything is fine. No matter what happens next, we're in it together.

Judging by the next thing I know is me waking up, we fell asleep.


	34. 10x34t4

**Nowhere: 10x3(+4)**

His eyes opened and he sat for a moment before remembering his location. He slowly lifted his head from the crook of a neck.

Goku stared down at Vegeta with a sense that was not entirely of regret, but not exactly of shame either. The prince looked very peaceful asleep with his facial features relaxed and his breathing deep and even. The younger male felt his throat constrict and his chest ache.

Watching him like this, it was hard for Goku to believe Vegeta was hardly Vegeta anymore. He wanted so desperately to protect him, to shield him from harm, to make right what had been so wrong, yet, for the first time in a long time, he was powerless. Staring at the prince, he felt his eyes burn. Sniffing quietly, he wiped his eyes dry before they truly began to water. This foreign urge to cry was like a little warning light going off in his head. It told him to slow down - or stop if he had to - and think about what was happening. Maybe he was missing something. He had to clear his head. He had to detach himself from the situation.

He couldn't will himself to move.

He was immobile with his gaze locked onto Vegeta. Ironic, really, that this man would be the one that made him cry. Yet, it wasn't at all surprising. The only time he had seen Vegeta shed tears was in front of him. Despite the pain they could endure, regardless of the punches, kicks, and ki blasts that would brutally injure their bodies, tears never found their way to their eyes in battle. It was Vegeta's overwhelming sense of loss that had made him mourn outwardly. So, in a way, it was only fitting that he cry in front of this person. And only fair..? Maybe it wasn't so ironic after all.

This secret bound them together. Their relationship, which had been so cut and dry, had suddenly transformed into an elaborate complexity and Goku wasn't even sure how and when it happened anymore. He felt the frustration welling up within him again, jumbling his thoughts while inhibiting others.

And then, Vegeta awoke with a start.

It was odd for it to happen all at once: the wide eyes, the deep, laborious breaths, and the look of panic and confusion. Neither Saiyan moved or spoke.

"Are you okay?" Goku finally - barely - whispered as he did not trust his own voice.

Vegeta answered honestly, "No."

The younger man nodded in acknowledgment and tried to stop his traitorous body from shaking.

"Are you?" the prince inquired while pushing himself up onto his elbows.

There was a pause as Goku actually stopped to consider this. Knowing who was asking the question made it infinitely worse, and, finally, with a hoarse choke, Goku said, "I don't know." He covered his face like he was trying to hide. It was as if he was actually attempting to remove himself from a world where his instinct told him two conflicting ideologies, and where he felt incompetent and unconfident. He was torn from his miniature crisis when he felt warm pressure on his biceps. Revealing his face, he was shocked to see Vegeta rubbing his arms and shoulders.

Vegeta was comforting him.

The _Prince of Saiyans_, the man who had sworn that he would be his executioner, was _comforting_ him.

This wasn't Vegeta at all. Vegeta would not care of his emotions. Vegeta would not question him of his well-being. And he certainly would not touch him in any way that wouldn't inflict pain.

"Why are you doing this?" Goku was distraught.

"..Someone like you should not be sad," Vegeta explained simply, yet vaguely.

"Haven't I caused you enough suffering?" Goku spat out despite of himself. He didn't really want Vegeta to return to his hostile ways, but he certainly wanted to get as much of an answer out of him as he could. He realized, once more, that he was acting only in his personal interest.

The brunette's movements slowed as his face warped into a pensive look.

He did not reply for some time, "You would never hurt me intentionally." Then he took hold of Goku's face with a hand to each side of the head, and made him look into his eyes. He pulled him close so that Goku could see his dark eyes burning and so that their faces mere inches apart. "But if you did," he spoke lowly, "I would have to kill you." He released the younger man and lightly tousled his black bangs with a devilish, dangerous smirk.

Goku stared mutely while examining the smug man before him. Vegeta's abrupt dark mood had shifted to something playful, however twisted it may have been.

Carefully, Goku began to rise to his feet. "Did you sleep okay?" he finally found words again.

Vegeta's eyes narrowed in what appeared to be anger, "For the most part it was fine and dreamless. For the rest.. I didn't expect anything less." And then he started to laugh until he was howling like an animal. For a moment, he looked rather like the Saiyan he was, but it was crushed by the disturbing and sickening mood.

The echoes of laughter diminished and Vegeta rolled onto his side, facing away from the black-haired youth. "Why bother with life when you die away?" he sadly, rhetorically asked towards the marble floor.

With this, Goku knew he had to speak with King Kai.

Taking a moment, the Earth-raised man made himself presentable. "I'll be back, Vegeta," he promised, though it appeared that the elder wasn't even paying him any attention. With that, he put two fingers to his forehead, and was gone.


	35. 35

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**Nowhere: thirty- -five**

The humidity was uncomfortably thick. It was practically a relief when heavy droplets of rain began to descend upon the world. His head tipped back to gaze at the blotchy clouds. They seemed ugly to him, as he imagined they would look if an amateur artists had painted them. Something seemed so familiar about these particular clouds though. Something unsettling, as if they were associated in his mind with a negative time or place.

CAN YOU SO EASY FORGET? he chastised himself. It was a heady sensation hearing these words - it was as if they were imprinted onto his mind. A wave of disorientation hit him and the struggled to remain standing.

The sky darkened unnaturally. No, not darkening. Dissipating. It wasn't... There was... wasn't...

Brief snippets of pain.

The pulse of his heart in his ears, the feeling of white heat, and the steady depletion of his stamina...

No. He thought this over and over again. NO, I DON'T WANT TO SEE THIS.

The darkness turned to black.

It ate everything around him.

The kind of dread he felt was an unhealthy, unnatural type of dread. It was paired with the deepest feelings of terror and horror that he could possibly perceive.

He felt fear. The type of fear that made it pure agony to live. And it was the type of agony where your physical form wasn't what was threatened, but _you_ were threatened. It was unbearable for him. He was all alone, just like the last time. Last time?

No. NO! he begged, he pleaded, he sobbed and prayed. It was as if all the answers were just out of his reach. If he could just-

Spopovitch and Yamu

Which  
way  
would  
you  
go  
Kakarot?

Then  
I'm  
going

left.

He was enveloped in.

He was exhausted, but wide awake. Dear god, he couldn't think about sleep. What was this? This smear of sensation that eroded his speech and mutilated his perception?

It was a quiet afternoon and his room exhaled a musty warmth as he opened the door to enter. He moved stiffly towards his dresser and gently placed his towel on the top. He met his own face in the mirror, but only held the look for a moment before he opened the drawer. He paused for a moment, not certain why he had done so, except that he felt that an ultimatum was coming. Reaching for a fresh pair of boxers, he hesitated again before turning his attention elsewhere. Carefully, he extracted two items and set them on the polished wood.

The first was something he truly treasured. It was salvaged - as if by a miracle - and it was the only thing left of his father. His fingers gently ran across the stone inlay for a few minutes, until his attention finally was divested elsewhere.

He held a metal, rectangular object no larger in perimeter than a standard business or credit card. After much inner debate, he eventually opened the container and withdrew something he kept for reasons he could not define, even to himself.

It was a small piece of fabric, and nothing more.

At least, he tried to tell himself that.

Tried to ignore the striking color.

Tried to ignore the alien symbol.

Tried to ignore the memories of  
DISBELIEF  
PAIN  
REGRET

He Made His Decision Then. He Would Train In Space. Away From This Planet. Away From Him.

What was this? This smear of sensation that eroded his speech and mutilated his perception?

It was.. happening... again...

Over..  
and... over...  
again..

no  
no

stop

please

stop.


	36. thirtysix

**Nowhere: thirty-six**

All activity halts as a noise resonates across the Lookout: a scream so intense it sends the hairs on the back of my neck up. No one can move as it echoes and reverberates, though we all know who is the cause of it.

Suddenly, I find myself again. In an instant, I try to pinpoint the location and follow the twists and turns of the various hallways. The others are directly behind me, and thankfully our attempts to trace the sound back to the source are successful. Yet, we stop short of fulfilling our curiosity completely as apprehension sweeps over us.

Vegeta writhes, curled into a ball, trembling with apparent fear. I know that if he still had his tail it would be between his legs. As the others hold their positions at the doorway, I rush to his side in hopes that I can alleviate some of his trauma. I kneel down and shake him gently while calling out his name, "Vegeta?"

He screams again, a masculine sort of blood-curdling scream, then he pushes me away with such force I topple over. He scrambles backwards till his body slams against the wall causing his breath to knock out of him from surprise. Fleetingly, he claws at the tile like a caged animal before halting when I call out again, but in a much firmer tone, "Vegeta!"

He blinks his wide, dilated eyes in disbelief. His palms rest flat against the wall which he chooses to lean against in order to regain his lost air. He looks so vulnerable right now. A look that does not befit him. Confusion etches itself over his face as his gaze rises to look upon me, then shifts to the rest of the gang, then back to me.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

Instead of replying, he puts more effort into catching his breath. Or so I think until he swallows audibly and allows us to hear his thoughts by vocalizing them, "N-No, I'm not. I-I..I..." He suddenly starts to shake as anguished words spill forth from his mouth, "I left Kakkarot! Oh god! _I_ left _him_!" If he was restraining them before, he lost his control and submitted to releasing his tears. I almost lose my resolve, but what's the point of having two people miserable and emotional? Sobbing, he collapses while crying out in vain, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! ..I was wrong!" Vegeta wraps his arms around his knees and buries his head to hide his sorrow.

I swallow my panic and walk slowly toward him. "Vegeta, what do you mean?" I ask while hesitantly reaching out to him. He growls low in his throat, an inhuman sound that stifles my movements.

"Vegeta-Vegeta," he says like a taunt or a jeer, "you have to go. He'll be fine, I say, but he knows and I left him all alone!"

"What? Goku's okay," I say, not understanding the meaning behind his words.

He stops crying with this and raises his head to look me in the eyes. "What did you call him?" Vegeta whispers with incredibly dark eyes, regardless that a moment ago he had been crying. I felt that, somehow, I had crossed a line I shouldn't have - a line I didn't know existed until Vegeta's voice rumbled that particular way towards me.

I say nothing. With his face cast in shadows it causes his appearance to be all the more frightening.

"_Never_ call him that again," he says with such fury that I'm afraid of whatever wraith he wishes to inflict upon me, "Kakarot is **Kakarot**."

"S-Sorry.." the apology comes out not much louder than a whisper. I don't know how I managed to respond at all. Thereafter, he slumps back into his state of depression. For the first time since I came into this room, I look back at the others, but they offer no help, no guidance, nor consolation. "Vegeta, let's get you into the bath, it'll help you relax," I suggest while once again extending my hand to him.

He laughs bitterly and ignored my offer, "Relax? How can I relax when I know Kakarot is by himself? That it's all my fault?" He shakes his head, "No."

He repeats himself, growing quiet, "No..."

And I now comprehend that this is worse than I imagined. I cannot shake this feeling of foreboding.

I want Goku to come back.

I want him to come back now.

**Goku**.. the liar.


	37. 37

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**Nowhere: 37**

King Kai was in a restful state of half-consciousness when a voice suddenly ripped through the air with high speed and a tremor of anxiety.

"King Kai, I have to ask you a question!"

The god flailed in shock before falling out of his lawn chair. Composing himself, he proceeded to reprimend his favorite, little mortal, "Goku! What is the meaning of this? You DON'T JUST BARGE IN AND START YELLING!"

"Sorry," Goku said out of necessity, not because he truely meant the apology, "but I have to ask you a question."

"This had better be good," King Kai grumbled as he straightened his crinkled antennae. Goku, instead, didn't reply, but took a seat in the now unoccupied chair, so that he could look the god in the eye. The elder suddenly noticed the solemn vibes that Goku emitted. He ignored the previous displeasure of his nap being interrupted. They looked at each other seriously. Finally, Goku spoke.

"What will happen to Vegeta if he dies?"

King Kai paled momentarily, "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean! Will he go to Heaven or Hell?"

At first the kai said nothing at all. Then, he took a deep breath and exhaled it in a sigh. His antennae now twitched and shifted position in contemplation. He opted to speak some moments later, "Vegeta has taken the lives of many innocent people. He has inflicted much pain and suffering upon those who did nothing to deserve his punishment. However, since his arrival on Earth, it appears that he has given up on the senseless destruction, at least, for the time being. He does appear to have hope for redemption, for his heart is not completely corrupt. And it is noteable that many horrendous things have happened to him. In a way, Vegeta was as cruel as he was merciful. However..."

"However, he's eternally damned?" Goku cut him off, "Does he deserve Hell? Have you looked at him? Have you spoke with him? He's been to his Hell and back already. It isn't fair. The afterlife should at least be fair!"

King Kai gestured for him to calm and to listen, "You didn't let me finish, Goku, and _that_'s not fair. And yes, I have been watching him, as well as you - both of you. As for speaking to him.. I don't believe that'd be a wise course of action. We both know what happened to him on some very basic level. What I was trying to tell you is that the afterlife does try to be as fair as possible. I want you to follow me."

Goku did as he was instructed with the hope that all his immediate questions would be answered. What was King Kai going to show him? Maybe Vegeta's record? Maybe they had a court up in Heaven? He looked at the blue-skinned man in puzzlement as he headed towards his classic automobile. The god held the passanger door open for him and, with curiosity, he entered. When his immortal friend entered the vehicle, they both buckled their safety belts when the said friend decided to explain himself, "This'll be the fastest way there."

It was like any vacation-length car ride, except there was silence the entire way. Once or twice King Kai would murmur directions to himself, but otherwise there was only the accompanying sound of the engine. Goku stared out the window at the scenery as they passed - watching as familiar places came and went until they were just driving down what seemed to be a long, rural road. The vast plains were dotted with what appeared to be a mixture of trees and cacti. It was pretty - no - beautiful, to the point of awe-inspiring, yet he failed to notice. His mind was calculating, trying in vain to produce an answer to an older question. Something that ran through his head every night as he tried to fall asleep...

y1/square root 1-(v2/c2) 1

Damnit, he was no good at this!

Despite the efforts of the Yardat to educate him in their practices, he never could recall all their formulas and uses. The numbers just got jumbled in his head and it just made it hurt right between his eyes. Was he looking at the wrong item for a solution to his concerns?

Either way, he felt the answer. Seven days and three hours just weren't equal no matter how you looked at it.

The car slowed to a halt, and the god turned the vehicle off. Turning to face the Saiyan, he announced, "We're here."

Goku blinked a few times and allowed his vision to focus. He gazed at the sight before him and felt strangely at peace for a fleeting moment. The large ivory structure lay in front of them looking somehow like an office building from many different time periods, yet appearing to be singular and complimentary. He managed to climb out of the car and shut the door without tearing away from the sight, but then he noticed the other surroundings. It was as if they were in the middle of the most fantastic garden in existence. This place truly depicted Heaven well.

The duo walked up a small flight of stone steps and through a set of revolving doors thereby entering a great lobby. A secretary at the desk looked up at them and instantly stood. "S-Sir!" she stammered, "How may I be of assistance?"

"Please, at ease," King Kai implored, "I wish to know if Shelly is available."

"Of course! Ms. Hershmire is in her office. Please, straight down the hall. I will call her to inform you of your coming."

"Thank you, Candy."

At first Goku thought it would be pointless to call someone to tell them that their guests were just down the hall; that was until he saw the full length of the hall. It was, at a minimum, a two minute walk, but thankfully there were paintings to peer at as they passed room after room. Each picture had the same theme: nature in all its glory - rolling mountains with lush vallies, forests of several colored leaves, pristine lakes, and the list went on and on. Again, silence reigned between the mortal and immortal. There was the soft hiss from the air conditioning, and the quiet shuffle of their feet against the linolium, but other than that it was quiet and serene.

They came to the door at the end of the hall, and while Goku stood back, King Kai knocked politely. "Come in," a pleasant voice called out. With access granted, the kai opened the door and held it for Goku. Thanking him, the full-blooded Saiyan took a seat in front of the large desk in the room. King Kai shut the door, then sat down as well.

The woman known as Shelly finished reading over a document before placing it aside and looking at the pair. "North, it's great to see you. It's been since when.. the last barbeque? What brings you here? This isn't exactly a 'I was just in the neighborhood' case," she observed while offering a warm smile.

"Shelly, I want you to meet a friend of mine. His name is Goku," the god bypassed her questioning.

"Nice to meet you," the blond said cheerfully, standing partly to offer her hand, "I'm Dr. Shelly Hershmire."

"Hi, nice to meet you too," he replied, but then instantly spoke his mind, "It's.. doctor?"

King Kai coughed as he stood up, "I'm going to go get a drink. Shelly, why don't you have a discusion with him?" Goku eyed the kai as he nervously backed away and out of the room. Once the latch clicked, Goku turned to face the new aquaintance.

Again, he repeated, "Doctor?"

"Yes, Goku. I'm certified in After-Deceastion Medical Practice, and have been approved by the Directional Kais, King Yemma, and the Grand Kai for the past several millenia."

"After-Deceastion Medical Practice? You give medical care to people that are dead?"

"I know it may sound like a funny and pointless cause, but there's more to death than physical harm."

Goku began to wonder if this was heading in the direction he suspected. He figured, knowing his luck, it probably was. Instead of continuing her train of thought, however, she shifted the attention to him, "What brings you here?"

"King Kai brought me here after I... After I asked him a question," Goku said slowly.

"What did you ask of him?"

"I asked him if a friend of mine, Vegeta, would go to Heaven or Hell when he dies."

"Ah," the lady said as a small, sad smile crossed her face. This information shined light on the entire situation for her, "Why do you ask such a thing? Is he sick? Is he wounded? Will he be passing on soon?"

"No, no.. I just... He has this problem, you see? And I.. I don't really think it'd be fair for him to go to Hell," Goku responded with a slight blush due to his pathetic ability to explain the problem at hand. I must sound really stupid, he thought.

"What's wrong writh your friend?"

"I don't know," Goku snapped back, feeling irritated at the question.

"Well, Goku, I can probably tell you why North Kai brought you here," the lady said in a more clinical tone, "..There's a major flaw in the system of organizing the dead. Even though it only effects roughly point two percent of the population of the universe, it is a tragic thing. Most people, Goku, they live and die and have specific orientations for Heaven or Hell. Meaning if you do bad things - you rape, you steal, you murder - you go to Hell. If you do good things - help people, save people, work with people to protect them from evil - you go to Heaven. But there's a select few, just a thin band of people, who deserve fair and proper treatment by means of neutrality."

"I guess.. I don't understand what you mean," Goku admitted sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck from old habit.

"Think of it this way.. When you die, your body is repaired, or revoked, but we do not have the capabilities to 'fix' non-physical problems."

The Saiyan said nothing.

"Goku, I'm going to ask you a very important question, and I want you to answer me honestly."

He hesitantly nodded, then spoke softly, "Okay."

"Is your friend, Vegeta, mentally disturbed in such a way that, even in death, he is a threat to himself or others?"

"Yes," Goku whispered as his voice suddenly failed him.

"Then if your wish is for him to not be sent to Hell as punishment, you may rest easy," Shelly declared while standing from her chair in order to face the window, "..There was a debate. A debate that had been occuring long since before I was born, and long before the Directionals mapped the Cardinals. There was a man by the name Reg'ihan. Dr. Reg'ihan. He managed to single-handedly convince all the kais on council of his argument. Ever since then, the terminally ill have been sent here. The Kai Court found that it was improper to punish those, for example, who had killed and not even remembered due to their sickness. They wouldn't even know why they're in Hell, so how could that possibly be justice?

"The mentally ill deserve proper care and nourishment. I think what a lot of people don't understand is that they really aren't good or bad people. Their ailment causes them to be a whole different type of soul, which is neither of holy or unholy persuasion. However, our aim is to eventually cure our patients. Once free from their disease or disability, they can chose their destination through their actions."

"What exactly do you do here?" Goku was curious.

"We work with the patients and try to help them cope, then come to grips with their problem. Mental disorders affect the dead differently than the living, which is something else that isn't widely known. A disorder they couldn't overcome in life is merely an obstable between them and their eternity here. So what we exactly do varies from person to person."

"How many patients do get admitted?"

"Like I said, not many. Point two percent of the universe. Most are able to leave within a month or less. The longest we've ever had someone is a few years. Three, I think it was."

"So you deal with the most chronic cases of.. insanity?"

"You.. could.. say that. If someone only has a mild abnormality there's a commitee who can usually 'fix it' so the person isn't sent to us. It's time efficient. I know that must sound rather strange with this being eternity and all, but sometimes time is relative, and we have to take that into consideration. Goku, may I ask you another question?"

He shifted in his chair, "Sure."

"Do you have any idea exactly what is ailing your friend?"

He shook his head.

Shelly sat back in her chair and gave a wry smirk, "Well, I guess it'll be okay if we view his file. Any friend of North is a friend of mine." Goku lifted his gaze to meet hers. Only when he offered an uncertain smile did she swivel her chair around to a green filing cabinet. It was significantly smaller than the other three present - with black, white, and grey being their respective colors. Each cabinent had four drawers each.

She grabbed the handle and said aloud, "Vegeta." When she opened it, the first file was the one she removed. Double-checking, she commented warmly, "Your friend is special. He's the only 'Vegeta' alive." Manuvering herself close to the desk, she laid the file down and opened it in a way that Goku could only describe as neat and professional, "Let's see what's going on with him, shall we?"

She began to peruse the papers with infinite care and order. The Saiyan watched her expressions carefully as she read - noting any change and observing the crinkle of the brow or the pursing of the lips. Abruptly, she cocked her head to the side. "What is it?" Goku asked in a voice that betrayed his true emotions.

"Did your friend leave the Northern Quadrant recently?"

"Yes."

"Hmm.. That might explain this."

"What is it? May I see?" Goku asked, anxious. The doctor passed him a piece of paper.

-Return function 34: 25842.67905;2837.1.10. STOP. Time Stamp: 731.612.152.73654.1717.1  
-Time Stamp: 732.1112.252.33654.1047.1

-Time Stamp: 733.312.352.43654.213.1

Goku handed it back, not comprehending the data, "Why was the page blank?"

"This is a log of all good and evil Vegeta has done. To conserve space, each entry is made directly after the previous one."

"Then why the blank page?"

"That's exactly the point. People are watched in their designated quadrant - the quadrant they were born, and live, in. If he left the North Quad it might have interferred with the proper recordings. I honestly cannot think of another explanation for the descriptionless time stamps."

"What exactly do those mean?"

"An empty time stamp is the same as saying 'on this day, sometime in the past, nothing happened'. It isn't very relevant, is it? The empty spaces could be reserved for the actions he displayed outside of his quadrant."

"It doesn't say if he left or not?"

"Files are supposed to only be evidence of a soul's orientation. As gods, we only want to pry so far. Why should neutral acts be forever immortalized in our system? We do have a sense of decency and privacy." Shelly became quiet, and Goku took advantage of it in order to absorb these latest developments. "Well," the doctor announced, "I'm going to go down to Records and convince them that this is a worthy investigation. In the meantime, you're welcome to take a tour of the facilities." She stood, shook his hand, and immediately departed.

In his head, Goku compared the data. An empty time stamp. Something didn't happen. Or, maybe, since a time stamp is only present in a major event, it just didn't know how to describe what happened that day. Vegeta left Earth to train in space. He went out to push his body to the limits and beyond. He left to become a Super Saiyan so he could rival him.

Vegeta left and never came back.

How long did it take for Bulma to become concerned? She must've known he'd be gone for awhile. She must've expected him to not return so quickly. But how much time had transpired till she began to wonder? How long did it take till she finally decided to contact him? How many times did she try and fail till apprehension took over, threatening to become panic?

How long had Vegeta been gone?


	38. THIRTY EIGHT

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**Nowhere: THIRTY-EIGHT**

"How's Vegeta?" Krillin asked in a small voice.

"Better, I guess.. He managed to fall asleep," Bulma replied after she quietly shut the door to the room behind her.

"What do you think is wrong with him?" he asked while accompanying her down the hall, "It seems like it's more than amnesia."

"I can only agree with those sentiments, but until Goku decides to tell us the truth-"

Krillin interrupted, "What? Tell us the truth? What do you mean? Goku would never lie to-"

Bulma sharply cut him off, "Yes, he would! He would if he thought he was doing us a favor!"

Krillin became silent due to this outburst, because he knew what she was saying was true. It was Goku's nature to protect. It's what drove him to take care of Vegeta so, and it would drive him to lie if need be.

"But why would he lie? To us, especially.. I mean, what would he be lying about? Just.. Why?"

"I don't know," Bulma replied tersely as her hands balled into fists, "That's what scares me."

"Maybe Vegeta's condition is more serious than just amnesia," Krillin contemplated out loud.

"But he knows who Goku is," Bulma said in protest, "It just.. It doesn't make any sense."

Ahead, they noticed Piccolo at the end of the hall. His eye-ridges where hard-pressed and his lips were a grim line as he watched the pair approach. He could have been confused with a statue for how hard and stoic he appeared.

"Hey, Piccolo," Krillin apprehensively greeted the Namek. The shorter human wasn't sure what to make of the expression bearing down upon him.

"Hey," the reply came with no emotion, and he simply stood looming and stiff.

"What is it?" Bulma asked as she was obviously concerned with his behavior.

"We all forgot," Piccolo explained in a voice that, if it were metal, could break bones just by being in the same room, "With everything that's happened with Vegeta we forgot what today is."

Krillin instantly guessed, "Oh no! I'm sorry, dude! Happy birthday!"

Piccolo growled warningly which instantly silenced the younger man. With a tone of urgency, he spoke again, "It's May 12th. Take a trip down memory lane and try to remember what happened three years ago on this day."

Krillin looked up in thought while Bulma cocked her head to the side. It dawned upon them at nearly the same instant.

"Oh, god. No," Bulma said in disbelief.

"Yes," Piccolo gritted out with hostility, "So if either of you know where Goku is, that'd be great."

"I haven't seen him since yesterday," Krillin told the Namek.

"That's odd.." the blue-haired lady thought aloud, "I haven't either." A deep sense of foreboding came over her again. Without consciously acting, she looked back over her shoulder down the hall at a particular door.

"What are we going to do?" Krillin broke the silence while nervously wringing his fingers.

"Wait," Piccolo answered him, then he turned to go outside.

Hours passed. They felt like an eternity.

Finally, Gohan spoke up, "Should we just go without him?" He looked to his mentor for approval.

"We should," the Namek agreed.

"No! Guys.." Yamcha began pathetically, "Can we.. Can we just wait a little longer?" Imploring eyes bore into Piccolo's skull.

The Namek gave in. With a sigh, he nodded. "A few more minutes," he declared.

The silence that reigned was horrible, and it only served to emphasize the passing minutes. And then, suddenly...  
...Goku was there.

Noticing their concerned faces and solemn moods, he instantly asked, "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Piccolo retorted with a snort, "It's May 12th, Goku."

"May 12th?" the Saiyan replied, "What's so important about-" Goku's expression suddenly fell and his sentence died. How could he forget the day a purple-haired stranger approached him and spoke of death and destruction that would be laid waste upon the Earth? How could he forget the fates revealed? Negligence was the only correct answer.

He stated bluntly, "Shit." He paused to try to gather his frantic thoughts. Something important.. he had just had something important.. Something about.. about that day and what was said. He couldn't do this right now. He needed to focus. Coming back to the present, he softened his facial features when speaking to his friends, "I.. I'm sorry, you guys. I just.."

"Save it for later!" Piccolo snapped at him, "We have more important things to worry about! Let's go!" They all began to take off when Goku stopped in mid-flight. "What is it this time?" the Namek was incredulous.

"Vegeta.. I can't just leave him," Goku protested as he made an about-face.

"Goku, we don't have time for this!"

"I have to see him!" Goku shouted in response, "I don't expect you to understand, but he needs to know! He deserves to know.."

"Know what?" Krillin instantly prodded with an edge of irritation.

Goku hesitated before speaking, "That.. That I'm going away." Giving his friends a quick glance, he pressed two fingers to his forehead and was gone.

Vegeta was sleeping in such a way that it dared to be called peaceful. Goku hated to wake him, but he knew it was for the best. He gently nudged the prince's shoulder while quietly calling out to him, "Vegeta..." The brunette did not rouse. With a half-hearted smirk, Goku shook him a bit harder and said his name a bit louder, "Vegeta.. wake up, please.." At the request, the prince obliged.

Blinking bleary eyes, the shorter man inhaled deeply with the remnants of sleep still written over his face. When the world came into focus, Vegeta scrunched his eyebrows together in what could have been confusion, "Kakarot.." Goku wasn't sure whether it was a question of a statement.

"Hey, Vegeta," the younger male smiled down at him, "I wanted to tell you that I'm going away for a little while."

"What?" Vegeta shot up, "What do you mean? Go where? Why?"

Goku tried to calm him down, "It's ok. Just for a little while. I have something to take care of."

"What? What is it?"

"Don't worry, I'll be back as soon as I can," Goku answered while not offering any new information. The black-haired Saiyan stood and began walking towards the door, "Take it easy while I'm gone, okay?"

Vegeta threw back the covers of the bed and turned to get up, "Kakarot, don't go!"

"It'll be ok, Vegeta," Goku said with a hint of humor, "I'll be back before you know it." Then he disappeared through the door and softly shut it behind him.

Vegeta sat on the edge of the bed with conflicting emotions running through his head. Kakarot was going away? Why? When will he be back? Soon? What? He rubbed his temples in an attempt to clear his thoughts and put some semblance of order to them. But why would Kakarot go?

"Don't go," he whispered out loud. He closed his eyes and let himself scream, "Don't go, Kakarot!"

Because if Kakarot left.. he would leave and never come back.

Something in the back of his brain told him not to let this happen.

In an instant, he was out of the room and running down the hall. He exited the building and ran out into the garden. His feet took him past the flora and fauna, past the pillars, all the way to the edge. Pausing to catch his breath, he looked down with wide eyes at the earth below. He was so high up that he could not fathom how he would descend. He let the panic engulf him for a moment before he regained his resolve and began his search for the way down.

Vegeta found it. At the north end, there was a ladder. He carefully swung himself around and reminded himself not to look anywhere other than his immediate destination. He climbed till he met another structure. It was shaped much like the residence he was currently occupying, but the size and interior was much different. He followed the spiral not caring what he found there with the sole exception being the way out. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man and his cat, but he opted to not take the time to apologize for his intrusion. He hoped this wouldn't cause any bad karma, but continued on his way regardless. Kakarot simply could not wait.

He found what he desired which turned out to be some type of stone ladder. He continued downward again while praying that he would catch Kakarot in time.

The idea was simple: If Kakarot was to leave, he would go with him.

His muscles strained, sweat trickled down his temples - dripped into his eyes - but his determination overruled any discomfort that came over him. Actually, in an odd way, it felt rather pleasant, but he dismissed the thought. He had to find Kakarot at all costs.

The minutes passed and he traveled as quickly as safety would allow. When he at last came upon the bottom, he leapt several feet off in his haste. The contact of the soil beneath his feet made Kakarot slip out of his mind. He stared at the expansive world around him. He was in awe, held immobile by the beauty of the land. The worry and anxiety was set aside to accommodate this surprise.

Vegeta trembled before sinking to his knees and fisting his fingers into the lush grass. It was.. explicitly right. Could he lose Kakarot to this? Yes, maybe he could.

Seconds later, he withdrew from the reprieve.

Standing, he raced into the nearby forest, dodging branches, fallen limbs, and other hazards in his path.

Which way did Kakkarot go? Which way would he go? This world's expanse nearly matched.. matched what? It didn't matter. Kakkarot mattered.

I _must_ find him, Vegeta thought resolutely.

He had no idea how much time had passed.

He ran into some underbrush, bringing his arms up for protection, and came out the other side where he was nearly hit by a large vehicle. The smell of burnt rubber prickled his nostrils as the prince stared at the pickup truck which had almost taken him out. The driver got out.

"Are you okay?" the man, apparently a farmer, asked with serious concern in his voice.

"I'm fine," Vegeta assured, his breathing slightly labored from previous exertions. Somewhere in the back of his mind he did think it strange that the image of a truck heading at him was not threatening nor disturbing.

"Look, really bad weather is coming in from the East, so I wouldn't head that direction," the man declared and then offered, "I can give you a ride if you need one."

"No, thanks," Vegeta replied as he glanced over his shoulder to the East. His resolve was building by the second.

"Are you sure? It's no hassle," the farmer inquired.

"Absolutely certain," the brunette nodded, "Though I appreciate the gesture." With that, the other man said goodbye and departed.

Vegeta peered to the East, in the direction from which his death had almost come. The road was a long, narrow one and it led up and over the hill, past the forest. Down at the horizon he saw the familiar splotches of storm clouds gathering. This seemed like an omen. There lay ahead of him something he could not explain. Something hostile in nature was looming in those clouds. He knew it, just as he was sure of what else it meant.

Kakarot was there.

Without a second thought, his feet were pounding against the pavement. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ran so fast.. it felt like it was ages ago, but only if those years were yesterday. It wasn't important right now. He was going to find Kakkarot and that was final. He strove hard, extended his strides, and focused on breathing. The humidity was sweet in his mouth, but seemed to cling to his skin. It didn't make a difference on his performance. The incline wasn't sharp and, though it was a challenge, he would overcome it. He would prevail. He had to.

It took him an eternity composed of a few minutes, but he was climbing up the apex, pushing his body, going faster, demanding more.. and the effort crested, it was there.. and then it disappeared.

The road took a sharp turn to the left, going towards the North and the mountains in the distance. The hill in front of him gradually sloped into an open field. It began to drizzle, but he no longer cared about such trivial things as the weather.

A fight was taking place, and there was a fair share of spectators. There were those whom he had met before - the ones that had stared at him - but there was also some unfamiliar present. They were the enemy. He knew because Kakkarot was struggling with one of them. He watched in heavy anticipation, hoping that his friend would triumph. Even with the distance he was at he could hear, nearly _feel_ the blows they dealt upon one another. His heart began to pound in his chest, louder in his ears.

The black-haired man that Kakarot he was fighting was agile, quick, and ruthless. He did not lessen any blows; did not restrain himself in the slightest. Kakarot's adrenaline and stamina were fading at too rapid of a pace.

He would lose.

Everyone seemed to realize this, even the antagonist.

"Ah, you're really a disappointment!" the enemy laughed, watching Goku attempt to rise from the ground. He pushed the Saiyan back down with his foot, "But when I kill you, we'll be free to do as we please. Prepare yourself, Goku."

The words resounded throughout the area, hitting Vegeta hard: _"Prepare yourself, Goku."_

He saw red.

And then he felt his fist connect to that asshole's jaw. There was a hush over the crowd. Spitting out some blood, Goku forced himself up onto his elbows, "Vegeta?" The elder looked down at him, offering a slight smile.

"Kakarot, I-" the prince began when he was interrupted.

"Watch out!" Goku shouted.

Vegeta pivoted just in time to see, but not react. A fist so hatefully crammed itself into his stomach, forcing the air out of his lungs. Eyes wide in shock and pain, Vegeta held his midsection as he fell over.

"Weaker than I imagined," the black-haired one proclaimed as he looked down with an expression of amusement. Shaking his head, he reached over and picked up the larger of the two males. Goku glared with what energy he could muster, even though on the inside he only blamed himself for his lack of preparation. Holding him in place, the enemy began to beat upon the defenseless man as if out of spite.

Vegeta began to catch his breath while watching with growing vehemence and rage. Composing himself, he commanded the assailant, "Stop it." His demand was ignored. Kakarot was being pummeled. Blood and bruises were already covering his form. His body could not withstand the punishment for much longer, as it would surely forfeit the struggle to merely function.

These stupid mechanical dolls.. Who did they think they were? Kakarot, bastard as he may be, did not deserve such heinous treatment.

Everything was so clear, but he was completely past living, completely past dead.

Never... Never before... have I had to retreat...

He stood up, unfaltering, unwavering. In an instant, everything that was was gone and everything that wasn't meant to be was sanctioned. His aura was like a sickly, sweltering disease that caused decay from the inside out. His eyes became dark like a plume of taint that hangs over a defiled holy place. The stench of filthy, rancid death stung the air like a repulsive perfume.

All attention was granted to him.

Vegeta said clearly, loudly, "GO AWAY."

Then, the enemy was gone.

And Vegeta fell to the ground.  
It rained.

The blond called out for her brother, "Seventeen?" There was no response. No indication of his location existed. In a shakier voice she cried out, "Seventeen..?" Still, her twin would not return her panic-laced outbursts.

Goku instantly crawled to his prince's side. Ignoring any pain or discomfort, the younger cradled the elder in his arms, checking to ensure his liveliness. Rapidly thinking, Goku turned to the girl and lied with conviction, "Are you going to give up now? You saw what he did to your brother and he can do it to you. Leave. Now."

The other android agreed, "Let us go, Eighteen."

When the threat was over, the true crisis began.


	39. thirty & nin3

**Nowhere: thirty & nin3**

When Vegeta woke up, it was clear that they weren't going to make much, if any, progress.

"Tär(e)kak?"

"What?" Goku asked in confusion. He turned to the others, "What did he say?"

"I don't know," Krillin said while shaking his head. Vegeta spoke again as he sat up.

"Tär(e)kak, Ï ma rih."

"What?" Goku asked again, this time stepping closer to the other Saiyan, "Vegeta, what are you saying? You're not making any sense!"

"Ï ma rih, Tär(e)kak. Ï tnew äw(e). Ï zuw nôg. Ï zuw ïb-ïb, tub Ï ma rih (ou)n dna Ï ma tän (ng)ëvël neg(e). Ti zi ös dlök t(ou) re(_th_), vy ön? Dna (e)(_th_) stïn, Tär(e)kak.. däg.. (e)(_th_) stïn!" Vegeta paused here, inhaling shakily before tipping his head back. "Ti zuw r(e)kräd na(_th_) nis, Tär(e)kak. Ti zuw kïl (ng)iëb ni ta(_th_) sälp neg(e). (E) däg! Re(_th_) zuw (ng)i(th)un t(ou) re(_th_), Tär(e)kak! Ön sr(e)sna, ön siläs, ön (ng)i(th)un. Ti lô mäk (ng)i(sh)ark n(ou)d. (Öö)d (öö)y ön tuwh Ï ôs? (ÖÖ)D (ÖÖ)Y ÖN TUWH Ï ÔS?"

Goku cupped Vegeta's face in order to hold him steady. "Vegeta.. Vegeta, look at me!" Goku implored as he tried to keep the prince steady. When he looked the brunette in the eyes, the elder began to chuckle and Goku's gut twisted horribly. His eyes were looking _through_ him... Vegeta was completely unaware of his surroundings. The chuckle turned into a laugh - an odd, almost desperate kind.

"Äh... äh.. ähäh.. äh... Ï ôs (NG)I(TH)ËRVE, Tär(e)kak. Ti zuw (ng)i(th)un. (NG)I(TH)UN. (E) däg! Re(_th_) rä ön sdruw! Ön (ng)ik(e)f sdruw (öö)t bïrksid! Sit kïl (ng)i(th)ërve dïd dna tsuj (NG)I(TH)ËRVE ZUW NÔG tub RE(_TH_). Dna Ï zuw re(_th_). _Ï zuw re(**th**). Ï zuw TI. TI zuw ËM._"

Then his eyes rolled back, and he crumpled. Moving quickly, Goku caught him in his arms and carefully set him on the nearby bed.

"What the hell was that?" Goku thought out loud. He looked to his friends, "Did you understand one word that come out of his mouth?"

"Was he even using words?" Tien added.

"Sounded like jibberish to me," Yamcha shook his head sadly.

"If one does not know a foreign language, then that language sounds like jibberish," Piccolo suddenly spoke.

Goku looked at him intensely, "You think he was speaking another language?"

The Namek shook his head, "No. The way he was speaking, however, is the root of our misunderstanding."

"What do you mean?"

"What was the first word he spoke? He said it a few times.." Piccolo inquired. When greeted with no answer, he told them, "Tär(e)kak."

"So?" Yamcha replied.

"So?" Piccolo mocked, "That didn't sound at least faintly familiar to you?"

"No.." the desert bandit admitted.

"T - Ä - R - (E) - K - A - K," Piccolo said slowly, loudly, clearly. He waited to see if anyone would pick up on it, but they merely stared, waiting, in silence. Sighing in agitation, the Namek said in the same manner, "K - A - K - (E) - R - Ä - T." All eyes went wide. Piccolo explained, "The reason we couldn't understand him is because he was speaking backward with normal infliction."

"That," Krillin declared, "is not normal."

"No," Piccolo agreed, "it's not."

A sudden thud interrupted their conversation and _Vegeta stared ahead in shock, listening to his rapid heartbeat. He had fallen, but he wasn't able to assess how far. Reaching out, he felt for the wall. His hands extended into nothingness. His breath came faster and his pulse quickened. Backing away, he began to look around. The blackness greeted him with silent comaraderie while welcoming him to challenge its depth. Everywhere he turned, there lay the same thing. Calling out with hesitation, Vegeta's voice was weak, "Kakarot?"_

"Vegeta?" Goku replied with eyebrows knit in worry, "Vegeta, what is it?"

_The brunette closed his eyes momentarily, as if doing so would erase this living nightmare. No relief was granted as the abyss still stretched out before him. His voice was almost a whisper as hope dwindled," Kakarot?"_

The younger man approached the elder, "What's wrong?" When Vegeta refused to answer, Goku placed a hand on the prince's shoulder, "Vegeta?"

_His voice faded into the ink.. or was it absorbed? Did it matter...? He knew though.. He knew that he was alone. And then.._

..SOMETHING TOUCHED HIM.

A scream erupted from his throat without conscious thought. He ran without direction, save that it was away from whatever _had touched him. He was alone, but something was there, and, oh god, it was going to get him. What was it? What would it do? Oh fuck.. did it matter? Holy god..._

He slammed into the wall hard and crumpled to the floor, after which he pathetically hid from whatever was out there. Not like he would see its approach, but.. what had he done to deserve this? **What had he done?** Tears came to his eyes regardless of his efforts to stifle any sound that could potentially attract unwanted attention. His hands covered his mouth to silence his heavy breathing. He blinked hard as hot tears escaped from the corner of his eyes, leaving bitter trails on his cheeks. The kind of loneliness he felt was atypical.

Suddenly shaking, he clamped his hands tightly to his jaw as sobs continually clawed up his throat.

He felt so sorry for Kakarot,  
for everything,  
even for himself.

Was this a punishment? What had he done? What had he done to deserve this?

He couldn't help it any longer - he released his anguish, "I'm sorry.. I'm sorry! Whatever I did, I'm sorry! Okay? I can't fix it, OKAY? I'M SORRY! Whatever I did, I apologize! I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." For a few minutes, he allowed himself to cry.

"Vegeta.." Goku reached out, walking towards the prince in hopes to comfort him.

"Goku, no!" Piccolo shouted, leaping forward and restraining the man.

_After calming, Vegeta slowly got to his feet. Using the wall as support, he began a journey of exploration. Feeling his way around, he hoped to gain some semblance of his current location. At the very least there **were** walls. He moved slowly, carefully through the pitch dark. What if there was another drop off like the one he fell from? What did this place look like? He understood that he'd probably never know. Yes, this was his damnation, his punishment, his regret..._

Would he... Could he ever be forgiven?

Or was he forever tainted?

Piccolo at once realized where Vegeta's tragectory would take him and he commanded, "Tien, lock the door." The three-eyed man completed the request with haste. They watched the imminent approach of the prince.

_Then his hand came across a raised surface. He examined the object and took a moment to compose a proper judgment. Bumping into a cold, metal protrusion, he froze. No, it couldn't be.. oh, but it was! A door. A door was there. He was going to leave this forsaken place and leave it for the demons to mourn. Grasping the handle, he attempted to turn the object. It refused to move._

"No.." Vegeta whispered, tugging and pulling relentlessly. His brief snippet of hope was ruthlessly crushed. Angry and scared and frustrated, he twisted the knob, yanked it, did everything he could to open the door and achieve freedom. It was not granted. No matter how much effort he gave the result was always the same. His fate was sealed. In denial, he beat his fists against the door and screamed at the injustice. Then, accepting it bitterly, he simply allowed himself to rest. He leaned against the door in dejection.

Piccolo, once convinced that Goku would not accidentally make any rash or drastic moves, released his friend. "Don't touch him," he warned.

Vegeta's eyes flickered opened when his face suddenly contorted to a look of horror. He backed away from the gateway as if it disgusted him.

_What if this door led in and not out?_

What if he would be going deeper into this maze?

"No, no, NO!" he shook his head in disbelief. But it was plausible. And it was likely. Very likely.

"Too much... This is too much!" Vegeta screamed while fisting his hands into his hair, "What do you want from me? What did I do? Tell me, please! ...WHY?" He went silent.

Nothing was the answer.

He gave up, and Vegeta fell unconscious once more.


	40. 40

**NOWHERE: 40**  
He dreamt of a time and/or place that was not of his own. Or perhaps, it was.

It was an odd dream because it did not cause discomfort.

The angel had come to him for his own devices, but regardless, it pleased him. They went to the park and wandered the paths that had not been cared for in some time. No others crossed their path, but he enjoyed the isolation. They went to the pond where the angel leapt in.

In disgust, the elder asked, "How can you do that? Don't you know what's in that?"

But the angel only laughed, "Hydrogen and oxygen? Two, specifically, of the first and only one of the second." Gazing at the liquid, the dry companion only saw a pool of waste that would put a septic tank to shame. The pollution was supreme, but the angel shook his head, "They _do_ lie." The older of the two raised his eyebrows in surprise and then gave a cry of shock as he was pulled into the murky water.

Sputtering and splashing, the brunette came up for air and blinked in amazement as he did so. The angel merely smiled.

The water was pure, crystalline and sweet. So clear it was that he could see the bottom several feet below him. He kicked his legs lightly and waved his arms to keep himself afloat. The angel opted to spread his wings in order to stay above the water. It seemed nothing more than a healthy park in spring, but to him, it was like a paradise.

They swam and played for many minutes before they finally rested. On their backs, they gazed at the sky and called out the make-believe shapes of the clouds as they passed.

"That one," the elder said, "looks like your scar."

"It would do well to remember that a voice of the choir cannot be harmed," his angel replied, "You are wearing the trenchcoat, afterall." It was true, but the heavy article had not disrupted or infringed upon his fun in the slightest.

"What are you talking about?" the elder asked while turning to face his friend.

"They lie, Vegeta, but so do you."

When he awoke, he remembered nothing save for the advice given to him.

Never had he slept so well.  
That's how he knew something horrible was about to happen.


	41. f o u r t y o n e

**Nowhere f o u r t y o n e**

They had decided to take Vegeta to Ms. Hershmire. He didn't seem as excited to meet her as she him.

"Hello, Vegeta," she extended her hand in greeting, "It's nice to meet you. Goku has told me about you."

"His name," Vegeta growled while ignoring her outstretched hand, "is Kakarot."

"Oh," she said as she retracted her hand and looked from the brunette to the black-haired man. Goku nodded solemnly. "Well, Vegeta, I'm sure you're wondering why you're here," the doctor said with a smile.

"The truth," Goku suddenly spoke up.

Shelly sighed, but bent to his wishes, "Vegeta.. you aren't well. We want to take care of you here."

"A fucking loony bin?" the brunette screamed at his fellow Saiyan while he clenched his fists, "This is what you're going to do? DUMP ME?" He rose from his seat and turned for the door. In an instant, the younger man had the prince restrained.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Goku shouted in response, "I will never leave you."

"I liked it.. there," Vegeta grumbled, unable to name the lookout properly.

"It's nice here too," Goku replied as he guided Vegeta back into his chair.

"Yeah, sure," the prince said off-handedly. Goku squeezed his shoulder lightly.

"If you aren't convinced after the tour, then I fear nothing will convince you," Shelly warmly announced before paging someone to the office. In the meantime, Goku attempted to convince Vegeta that choosing to stay would be a wise course of action. King Kai and Piccolo stood to the side, watching, like Ms. Hershmire, the interaction between the two.

"...and even _if_ I'm not around, you will be able to call me, and I'll be right there," Goku concluded as there was a knock on the door. It was Rick. The alien smiled at Goku's presence till he noticed the other Saiyan with him. "Is this your friend?" Rick inquired as politely as possible at that moment.

"Sure is," Goku answered with a light-hearted smirk, "Rick, this is Vegeta. Vegeta, this is Rick."

Rick voted to bow, "It is a pleasure."

"How'd you lose the eye?" Vegeta asked without any personal regard.

"Long story," Rick wryly shot off. Vegeta's attention turned from him. Piccolo was the only one who found the interaction slightly disturbing considering Rick had two healthy eyes. Saying nothing, the employee pointed to a patch on his arm. This raised Piccolo's curiosity, as he had been forced to wear one without an explanation. Rick simply held one of his long fingers to his lips.

"How about that tour?" Shelly interrupted the silence.

"Vegeta?" Goku asked.

"Yeah, whatever," the prince gave in.

"Goku, Piccolo, King Kai," Ms. Hershmire called them out, "Please wait a moment to join Vegeta. I need to speak to you three in private."

"Ah..." Goku sighed, "Alright." He promised to catch up with Vegeta, then shut the door behind his departure.

"Goku, I told you about the blank time stamps, remember?" began Shelly, but King Kai interrupted.

"Blank time stamps? What blank time stamps?" the god asked with urgency.

"Vegeta has blank time stamps on his record," she informed the party gathered. Her body language gave a sense of finality and she spoke no more as she turned away for a moment. The doctor rummaged through some papers in an array of file trays. "Here," she said as she passed a packet to King Kai, "Third page down." He flipped to the specified page and simply gaped. He looked over it a few times, as if expecting it to change, which it did not.

"This is. .impossible," the god finally proclaimed.

"Not nearly as this," Shelly replied, producing another stack of papers, "I went to Records to see if they could figure out why there were the blank time stamps and the empty space. Vegeta had left the Northern Quadrant, but here's the data we got for how long." They huddled around her desk to look at the information. Ms. Hershmire pointed to a specific number on the top page, "Five hours. Which obviously isn't correct. We did the test again." Flipping to the next page, she again pointed, "Three years."

Flip.  
"Six months."

Flip.  
"One decade and two weeks."

Flip.  
"Eighteen months, one week, thirteen hours."

Flip.  
Pause.  
"Seven seconds."

She stopped, regardless that there was at least another inch of information to wade through. Interlacing her fingers, she added, "We never got the same results twice."

Piccolo spoke first, "I have two questions. One, what does that mean? And two, why do I have to wear this?" He indicated to the item in question, which was the patch on his arm.

"I'll answer two first considering that I have a concrete explanation for you," Shelly began, "The patch you're wearing is park of an intricate, and extensive, network connected to the patients. Yes, Vegeta is wearing one. What it does is communicate with the other patches. It visually makes people that would appear threatening, scary, etc., into.. well.. whatever the patient wants to see in their place. Vegeta probably perceives us as Saiyans like himself. That is why he saw Rick sans one eye."

"Piccolo as a Saiyan.. that'd be a sight to see," King Kai chuckled.

Only giving the kai a sideways glance, the Namek countered, "But that doesn't explain Rick's reaction."

"Rick has worked here for a long while," the doctor explained, "He's used to people saying odd things to him. He's quick on the rebound so to speak." Seeing Goku's forlorn expression, she inquired, "What's wrong?"

"I just think you're wrong."

"About what?"

"Vegeta seeing us as Saiyans. I'm not saying he sees us as humans, just as.. I don't know... Like him."

"You might be more right than you know," she answered, inadvertently making it cryptic. She stood then, smiling brightly, "Let's go see how he's doing."

"You didn't answer my first question," Piccolo spoke up again, "What does it mean?"

"To be honest," the blond sighed, a hint of irritation creeping into her voice, "I don't know. If we knew where he went, then we might have something to go by. It's strange though... We haven't had a problem with a record for several hundred years. I'm sorry I don't have a better explanation, but I'm just as lost as you are."

"Fair enough," Piccolo granted, "but what do _you_ think it means?"

"Not sure," Shelly shrugged, leaning against her desk, "There's too many odd coincidences with too little information to go on. How can I make an educated guess when I have no knowledge of what's happened to him?" Knowing the discussion was closed, they turned from the room to track down the prince.

They found their party in the east garden. Rick was sitting on a bench and he stood at once when he noticed their approach. "I tried to persuade him otherwise," he said, hastening to add, "but I did not want to refuse his smile." They hurried to see what was happening.

Vegeta was having a grand ole time wading in the fountain. His jeans were rolled up to his knees with socks and shoes tossed aside carelessly. His left hand was guiding him around the object, feeling the cool stone beneath his fingertips. Kakarot called out to him and he offered a smirk, "Come on in, the water's fine." Goku accepted the invitation.

Following the elder's example, Goku's boots joined the pair of sneakers on the ground. With his gi rolled up, the black-haired man walked towards his friend, "So, what do you think?"

"This is an odd place," Vegeta said before relenting, "but it is nice." The younger man smiled. Smirking again, the brunette playfully kicked water at his companion. Releasing a squeak, Goku ran to the other side of the fountain. Vegeta followed in hot pursuit till they were practically enacting a game of ring-around-the-rosie.

"Just like kids," Ms. Hershmire said in surprise while folding her arms, "It's hard to tell that there's something wrong with Vegeta."

"That's because you didn't know Vegeta before he disappeared," Piccolo retorted.


	42. fortwoty

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for(two)ty of Nowhere

By the end of the tour Vegeta had been convinced that it was an acceptable place to stay. Despite reassurances from Goku, he had reluctantly agreed, but the promise of the other Saiyan's promise caused him give in. Shelly had opted to wait on performing a session with him. She much rather preferred that Vegeta become accustomed to his surroundings first and simply observe his behavoir. While this was occuring, the doctor also was making contact with King Yemma in regards to him owning a more precise documentation of the prince's life. No word was received from him yet. So, the brunette freely roamed the institute where he spent the majority of his time in the gardens, though he also enjoyed lounging in his room.

And that's where Goku found him one day, stretched out on the couch. He wasn't prepared at all for what Vegeta was watching on his television, so he froze instantly in place.

There, on the twenty foot screen, bigger than life, were two women having sex. Words failed him completely. He could only stare in a mixture of confusion, shock, and disorientated arousal. Finally, he mustered up enough sense to call out, "V-Vegeta?"

The brunette looked over his shoulder and grinned, "Hey, Kakkarot. How long have you been standing there? You can come sit, ya know."

Nearly tripping over his own feet, Goku accepted the invitation. The simple act of sitting seemed to release him from shock because he found himself asking, "Why are you watching.. lesbian porn?"

Vegeta laughed.

"Why do you think?" the brunette shrugged, "No - really - I turned the T.V. on, and this was on." One of the girls moaned, tempting Goku to see why. "Hey," the prince's grin turned more sly, "If you need some time alone with the T.V..."

The younger man blushed deeply and firmly replied, "No, I'm ok. Uh, thanks though."

With his grin broadening, Vegeta raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure? It's not a big deal. There's some Kleenex right over there-"

"Perfectly fine, thanks!" Goku abruptly shouted to Vegeta's delight. The prince laughed at him. It was not a cold laugh _at_ him, but rather a comforting type of chuckle one gives to relieve the tension present.

"So.. what's up?" the prince inquired while still smirking rather devilishly.

"'Just came to see how you were.." Goku stole a glance when one of the ladies shrieked particularly loud. He blushed hotly and downcast his eyes, "You seem to be doing okay."

"I'm managing," Vegeta admitted coolly, "Things are odd here. I..." He stopped and softly bit his lip in thought. Goku looked up at him intently, his interest highly piqued and one eyebrow raised. The elder sighed and shook his head, "It might sound stupid, but.. I feel like.. there's something amiss here. Not necessarily bad. As if... I don't know.. things aren't what they appear to be."

Goku's first thought of astonishment was that of Vegeta sensing his true surroundings. How could he know better? Were the patches malfunctioning? And what happened just a few days ago when he wasn't even aware that he was in the Lookout? What happened before that, when he had saved his life from the androids' hands? What the Hell had happened to Vegeta?

Hell.

What Hell had happened to Vegeta..?

"Don't worry about it," was all the black-haired man offered. Vegeta's simple, honest words had sunk his mood to the point where even the pornography wasn't capable of being a suitable distraction.

"I'm not really worrying," Vegeta said a bit too loudly. The black-haired Saiyan met his gaze, but offered nothing in his expression. The withheld response was enough.

"Alright," he admitted gruffly while turning off the television with the remote, "I worry a bit. I guess because I don't know where I am. Well, because.. Where we were at, I just knew that you could be there and it wasn't a problem. Here, it feels like.. like something is trying to separate us."

"You know I'm not going to leave."

"I know, it's just... I don't know, Kakarot. Do I seem weak to you?"

"No," the younger replied with conviction, "You are the strongest person I know. Please, believe me on that."

Sighing at this unsuitable response, Vegeta leaned against the arm of the couch while avoiding eye contact with his friend.

Unwilling to push Vegeta further, Goku did not bother to elaborate. Lost in their own thoughts, each gazed around at the surroundings as if they were by themselves.

Eventually, Vegeta's low voice broke the unease, "Kakarot?"

"Hm?" Goku released a soft, inquisitive noise.

"What's... What's wrong with me?"

Goku turned to him sharply and narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. "What do you mean what's wrong with you?" he asked with a twinge of hostility, "Nothing is wrong with you."

"Don't lie to me," Vegeta growled out.

"I'm not lying!" the younger shot back, "There's nothing wrong with you!"

"Well," the words came out as bitter hisses, "besides the fact that you put in a fucking loony bin for starters, I can _feel_ something wrong with me. Don't think I'm stupid, ok? I don't need that bullshit."

"What do you mean you 'feel' something wrong with you?" Goku replied in a more dignified manner and with a hint of anxiety.

"Dunno," the prince sat up. His eyebrows furrowed and his face contorted to distaste as he spoke, "A sort of.. weakness. A sort of sickness. Inside of me."

"You feel sick?"

"Yeah. And I'm exactly where the proper doctors can look at me," the brunette grudgingly spat out, "There's something in my head. Or maybe I made it up.. I don't know."

"Look," the other Saiyan offered, "I'll go talk to Shelly and arrange an appointment, ok? In the meantime, maybe you should go to the gym and work off some steam. I'll be right back then, alright?" Goku arose to depart, and Vegeta followed him out into the hallway.

"I'll see you in a few minutes," Vegeta agreed, taking a left while Goku took a right.

Luck seemed to be on his side for Goku found Ms. Hershmire only a few corridors away. "Doctor!" he called out, waving.

She waved back, "Hello, Goku." She halted her walk to allow him to catch up, "How can I be of assistance?" As soon as he arrived, she was moving again.

"Vegeta would like to see you," Goku announced.

"Really? That's wonderful. Well, I have some paperwork to finish in my office, but I think I can see him after that," she said with an air of genuine excitement laced in her voice, "You're welcome to join me now, in fact, a little company would be nice." Goku nodded, trailing just behind her as she lead the way. As they passed employees Shelly would give out a brief greeting, but nothing more. Finally, they entered the main lobby, which was significantly busy.

A group of orderlies were lined up against the wall as two of the largest ones Goku had ever seen were escorting a pre-teen girl inside. When he made eye contact with the child, it was as if time was pushed out of their brief snippet of connection. Her sun-bleached blue irises stared unrelentlessly into his own as they came closer towards one another. His gaze did not depart, even as they passed. They craned necks to look at each other, her expression solemn, yet unreadable.

He did not like her very much at all. "Who was that?" Goku asked once she was around the corner and out of sight.

"Ah, our newest patient. She's a special one indeed," Shelly said while tossing him a look that wasn't easily defineable, "Arestophenes is a gifted delusional. Her frontal lobe had been damaged as an infant and now she needs to develop a sense of right and wrong."

Details swarmed into his head when the doctor released this information. It was as if that penetrated gaze had temporarily forestalled his ability to focus, but now he was able to recall the metal gag-like object firmly around her mouth. It didn't seem all that important compared to other aspects of her body. Those eyes alone could communicate much more clearly than any spoken language she would or could emit. Yet, he didn't think of her as evil. No, that was not what he had felt from her. But he did not like her either. Someone, he sensed that the feelings were mutual. "What was with the gag?" he finally asked out loud as they reached the office door.

"I told you she was gifted," the blond said as she tossed her clipboard onto the desk and sank into her chair, "Her voice is a trigger to her inherited trait - an incredible, but equally horrific, psychic ability."

"Which is?" the Saiyan placed his hands on the back of a guest chair and leaned on it. He had an odd sense of foreboding.

"Well.. unfortunately for us, the damage makes her unstable," Shelly began to sift through a box of papers, "If she wanted, she could fill your head with blissful dreams. Or, if she wanted, she could awaken your worst nightmare. She could go inside your head, take what frightens you the most, and bring it to life," she explained in a calm voice.

So that was it. That's what he felt. She wasn't evil.. just dangerous. Just a threat.

"Bring it to life..?" Goku murmured more to himself, but it was overheard.

"Sometimes, when you believe it is real, it is enough to make it real. But, no need to worry.. we've dealt with worse patients before," the doctor said with a reassuring smile before returning to her files.

Goku listened to the tick of the clock and somehow each second became more intolerable. His fingers began to crush the padding on the chair while a string of urgency hummed through his body.

Suddenly, the phone rang. Shelly hit the speaker button, "Yes?"

"Ms. Hershmire! Come quick!" Candy's frantic voice called out.

"What! What's the matter?"

"It's the girl! She managed to get her gag off!"

Goku suddenly felt nauseous and infuriated all at once.

The blond burst up out of her chair and picked up the phone, "HOW DID SHE GET IT OFF?" The anger poured off of her and was emphasized by the harsh enunciation.

"I don't know!" came the other end of the line, "They're trying to restrain her, but she-"

A scream pierced the air and Goku thought he'd never heard anything more terrible. It was like thousands of souls screaming for help; like a wounded, tortured angel; like the incoherent sobbing of dead deity; like two robotic birds crying out to each other as they were dying.

Panic made his heart race as forbidden thoughts began to enter his head. Notions.. little ponderings he had promised himself he would never discuss, even to himself, started to filter in from the shadows of his soul. Creeping inside like a parasite, latching onto his weakness and exploiting them.. these bits and pieces of the dark side of his heart began to strangle his senses.

Shelly dropped the receiver and clamped her hands over her ears, hoping it would somehow mute the noise.

Throughout the institute, wails of fear and hysterics rang out.

What if someone finds out? Goku felt a hint of paranoia sound from deep within, and it grew the longer that voice screamed, but the scream seemed like a faint buzzing compared to his thoughts. They were so loud, he was certain they would escape his head. So loud, that everyone would be able to hear them.

they'll know everythinG. thEy'll KNow **ALL OF MY SECRETS.**

Then, like a crack of thunder, a brief image of Vegeta filtered through the tumoltuous vice of fractured ideas, and this image muted the scream and caused all of his fears to evaporate. He realized he was gasping for air and that the chair had begun to fall apart under his punishing hands. All his doubts and worries were nothing compared to this desperate need to save the man who had just, essentially, saved him.

Kakarot turned leave, grasped the handle, and opened the door only to be welcomed to true silence. The screaming had stopped.

Candy's voice breathed hard over the phone, "They.. They have her immobilized... but..oh god! The entire East Wing is without power!"

East Wing. Home to Vegeta's room, but, more than that, also to the gym.

And Vegeta had been in the gym.


	43. XXXXIII

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**XXXXIII**

The afternoon was fairly calm, so Rick was taking a small break from his duties. It was rather a laid-back type of day, and he was feeling a bit lazy. He strolled down the hall, trying to keep himself slightly energized, when something unexpected happened.

The loudest, most blood-curdling scream echoed from somewhere within the institute, coaxing patients everywhere to join in as it passed. Rick felt the air rush out of his lungs and he stumbled into the nearest wall for support. Dazed, he watched in horror as his flesh began to blister and rot. A patient nearby opened their door and stared at the orderly. Rick stared back, simply speechless and immobile. With a yelp, the patient dove onto Rick and clung to him, shaking and shivering.

And then, just as quickly - and as if by retaliation - the lights down the hall burst one by one in sequence. Each small explosion let the darkness swallow the area, till Rick had ducked his head and covered the patient with his hands to protect them from raining shards of glass. He suspected that there was a source, a reason that this phenomenom was stretching, reaching. Then he heard it.

The feminine scream had halted, but a male's had not, and along with it came the oddest noise Rick could have imagined. A groaning of sorts, but.. it seemed highly unnatural. It did not cease. The hallway seemed oddly quiet, even with the two noises present. The male's voice seemed to be drifting, fading farther away.. but the groaning was intensifying.

The growling, the moaning, the sound like metal continuously bending.. it approached them both from where the darkness had come. It came... and it passed.

And the male's scream grew fainter still.

Vegeta had begun to open the door when a feminine shout reverberated through the hospital. Losing his footing, he suddenly fell into a large, blank space. Tumbling onto his hands and knees, he looked back only to find that the entrance had evaporated. In fact, there was no room. Only darkness prevailed.

He'd been here before, hadn't he?

He knew now. It had come back for him. It had come back, and it wasn't going to leave this time.

"No!" he shouted defiantly while clenching his fists, "No! This isn't real. It can't be. Stop!" His demands were left unfulfilled.

The sensation of space disoriented him.

What was this?  
YOU KNOW.  
Why was this happening?  
QUIT LYING.  
How can I make this stop?  
FORGE THE WILL AND DEDICATE THE OPPOSITE.

His breaths were coming in gulps. Then, his throat constricted till he was hyperventilating. His eyes were wide open, hoping to find a shard of light. The blackness and the silence gave no sign of relenting.

He closed his eyes tightly before bowing his head.

He punched the hardness beneath him. As he pounded on the cool ground, he felt himself shake.

Then, as if in an effort, he got up and ran in the direction from which he had come. If he could just get out, if he could just find the door-

BAM.

He slammed hard into the wall which knocked himself backward and senseless. He shook his head to clear it and to regain his balance.

The wall was there, so the door must be there as well.

Ignoring the warm stream of blood from his nose, he extended his hand and walked slowly forwards. As he touched the smooth, ashen wall, the brunette choked slightly on the relief.

Then his ears caught something. It sounded like a growl. It sounded.. inhuman, inanimal, inanything.

He froze in place, daring not to move, or breathe, or to act in anyway. He feared his rapid pulse would somehow lead to his demise, or destruction, or something worse. For several long moments he stared hard at absolutely nothing.

He breathed again, a deep heavy intake, as he began to notice that he felt very cold.

He tried to resist the shivering by making his muscles tense, but this seemed to have little to no effect. As the noise seemed to creep in his direction, adrenaline ran hot and his stomach attempt to lurch. It was there: loud and hovering, dull and ominous. Then, abruptly, he felt nothing under his fingertips and his weight toppled him forward. He felt as if he was about to hyperventilate again, and he reached out, crawling pathetically till he touched the wall. However, as his fingertips glided over the smooth surface, it was as if it slid out from underneath his hand. With haste, he rose and rushed toward the wall, but he could no longer find it.

He screamed.

Anger and sadness saturated his mind, outweighing the terror and disharmony.

All the pent up feelings he'd been carrying, all the secrets, all the lies, all the fake happiness and false hope - he let it out. There was a terrible truth lying there, waiting for his denial to die, waiting for him to stop pretending, and finally it could no longer be ignored.

_He was nowhere._

It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered. It came over him. He came over himself. He struggled, fought, tried to gain some semblance of rational thought.. He gave all that he could in an attempt to control this sickness, this weakness, that was growing, festering, bursting inside of him.

But he could not.

It hurt.

He was hurting himself.

Why?

Rejection. Rearrangment.

Kakarot had told him to come here. It was Kakarot's suggestion. Was this a trap? Was THIS what he had known about? That the reason he could not leave - that the reason he would forever be damned - was because of this one man? Because of his stupid loyalty and trust? Because of Kakarot?

The answer resounded within him. One answer out of so many and the verdict was: No. Kakarot would not betray him.

It did matter. It mattered so much that he cried out the bastard's name as loud as he could. It mattered so much that he ignored the pain to focus on his enigma - his compatriot - his friend. It mattered so much that he slammed his fists against the floor at the outrage. So much that hot, bitter tears spilled down his cheeks. So much that he still tried to call out through his hoarse throat. So much that he fell over and curled into a ball while sobbing for help.

It mattered too much.

"Kakarot.." he said weakly, unable to find the strength to move, "Kakarot, please..."

Everywhere employees were trying to maintain order by calming the patients with the use of drugs if necessary. They ushered patients into their rooms where they proceeded to do their best to control the situation. The institute was teetering on the edge of chaos, but this barely phased Goku. He was running through the halls, dodging people left and right. Why couldn't he feel Vegeta's ki? He stopped short in the Station Access East corridor.

The hallway was pitch black like a huge, gaping mouth ready to swallow him whole. He took a breath as determination crossed his brow. He had to find Vegeta.

The transformation into Super Saiyan held a different aura from previous ascentions as it illuminated the area and suffused it in more white-golden glow than its typical yellow hue. He took a few steps, but halted again when he heard a definite crunch beneath his feet. Lifting a boot, he observed pieces of broken glass strewn across the floor and, automatically, he looked up to confirm his suspicions. He continued on.

The hallway was eerily quiet. The lack of noise was only interrupted every now and then by faint sounds of someone crying. He movements became more precise and cautious. It was like waiting for the worst to happen. Instead, he found Rick.

"Goku!" the alien shouted in surprise, "Are you okay? What's with the-"

The younger man cut him off, "Have you seen Vegeta?"

"No, I-" Rick began. As the Saiyan walked away, he ended feebly, "..can help look though..."

A significant temperature drop became apparent the closer he approached the gym.

Goku suddenly felt an intense urge and he rushed, nearly tripping in his haste.

He was there. This was it. Why was he trembling?

He opened the door forcefully and let it swing all the way back. Darkness greeted him. With apprehension, he peeked inside and called out loudly, "Vegeta?"

Silence.

He tried to examine the immediate surroundings, but still his aura would not reveal anything.

Something answered: "Vegeta?" For a second, Goku felt his heart pound in his chest till he realized it was his own voice. It was an echo. Frowning, he knew there was no reversing his frayed nerves. He stepped in while calling out again, "Vege-" No resistence met his foot. Flailing, he fell a few feet before gaining a grip over himself and his ki.

He never knew the gym to have a drop-off like that. Goku's eyes narrowed, but he had enough sense to yell again, "Vegeta?"

Goosebumps rose over his forearms and biceps, but he ignored the chill. Rain, sleet, or snow - dry, arid, or toxic - Heaven, Hell, or Earth -- he would be by Vegeta's side. He would aid his prince, but more importantly, he would aid his friend. Then it dawned upon him: a fire and brimstone kind of Hell, except the exact opposite. This was Vegeta's nightmare still existing without any coaxing by Arestophenes.

Goku ran in a frantic search for the brunette, but even the light cast from his Super Saiyan form barely penetrated this blackness - making this rescue more like a game of chance. Yet, his resolve was set and he knew he would not leave till Vegeta accompanied him.

Why was this so important? Why was this man so important to him?

He thought of the hatred the elder had for him - the contempt and rage held inside for months on end; the brutal determination to excel; the sheer will to endure anything at any cost for triumph. Cold, hard, emotional, fiery, passionate.. Vegeta had been a walking-talking paradox, living his life in comfortable contradictions. He was always the exception to the rule. Although there was a splash of bold sarcasm and this emersion of wit and warmth. The "new" Vegeta who only knew of him - of Kakarot - and only trusted him - Kakarot.

He was shaking, but whether it was from the cold or not he couldn't quite tell. All he wanted to do was make Vegeta happy. To ease his pain, to comfort the other man, and to free him from his torments and troubles. This was something he lived for, that he thrived for and on: assisting others.

Somehow, it had become personal.

They were the last of their people, the last of their "caliber," but it was beyond that. Through the fights they endured and the battles they had won, Goku had grown to appreciate, and then admire, his part-time ally. It wasn't just due to his skill and prowress. How could Vegeta mean anything less to him? How could he _not_ be important? The man that challenged his beliefs, his values, his way of life, his everything. The man who tested him, and pushed him to the edge and encouraged him beyond. The man who assisted him to accept who he was rather than fear it. Through these bizarre and unexpected turn of events, they shared a closeness, a strange level of intimacy that was foreign to Goku. The comfortable, candid moments of appreciating one another's existence..

He had known on some level that they trusted each other so strongly it went beyond life and death. Now, he properly acknowledged it. Now, he understood.

Vegeta would do anything for him.

And he would do the same for Vegeta.

That's when he heard it.

At an indistinguishable distance, he picked up on a low moan of anguish. There was no doubt; he knew it was Vegeta. His legs automatically traveled towards the broken sobs, hoping that a familar form would come into view at any second. A breathy cry permeated the air, "Ka..kkarot..t..." Thereafter, a fit of harsh coughing broke through the inky black.

His mind began to race again. It was like Arestophenes had opened a Pandora's Box inside his head and, with his focus dedicated elsewhere, all the undesirable bits wove through his conscious thought. The nothingness around him did not help, either.

In turn, he ran faster and harder.

He never expected the others to understand their bond.  
..Enemies turned allies, both victims of circumstance, both driven beyond rationality, both willing to do whatever necessary to meet an end to their means. Maybe he wanted the feeling of acceptance, or maybe it was the special attention and type of treatment.. but it was as if Vegeta made him feel "normal." It was a feeling that had eluded him time and time again, yet never failed to tease him with a glimpse.

The sensation of normalacy kept lonliness at bay. It eradicated that feeling of distance. He refused to take this for granted.

Vegeta was shivering violently and clutching himself as teeth chattered. The prince's eyes were shut tightly in agony, and Goku's features softened at the sight. He knelt before the figure, then, very gently, he touched the brunette's shoulder while murmuring, "Vegeta.. I am here."

At the sound of the younger's voice, the older man calmed. He opened his eyes before forcing his gaze upwards. Several emotions flickered across his face as he stared deep into the aquamarine eyes above him.

Recognition? Relief? Awe? Happiness? Horror?

There was so much inside of Vegeta that it made him immobile. So much that Goku could not recognize it all.

The internal struggle ended with the prince reaching out and pulling himself to the other Saiyan's body. Quietly at first, Vegeta began to cry again. Goku gently cradled him before lifting him into his arms. He held him there a moment before standing. Vegeta wailed into Goku's neck, "I'm sorry! I'll never doubt you again! I'll _never_ doubt you again..ever again... ever... Kakarot..."

The Super Saiyan pivoted in place and searched his surroundings for any hint of an exit. He had to remove his prince from this place - it was not an option. He had not come this far to fail. He would find a way out. He would keep him safe. He would find a way to help him at all costs.

He turned around and, directly in front of him, there was the door.

He questioned nothing. He freed Vegeta.


	44. 44

44

"Will he be okay?" Goku asked for the umpteenth time while still refusing to let the prince out of his grasp.

"I already told you!" Shelly raised her voice, "I don't know!"

"You said you could cure anyone. You said there's always been a success," the younger man spat back angrily. Shelly did not reply, rather she merely guided them towards the Infirmary.

Finally, she spoke, but her words were clipped to express her displeasure, "We're almost there. I'll call your friends and make sure they know where we're at." Neither conversed again until they were in an examining room.

"Alright. So, what happened?" Shelly asked while watching the orderlies lift Vegeta from Goku's hands onto the only bed in the room.

"With what?" Goku replied, mildly confused. His gaze did not meet hers - it never left sight of the other Saiyan.

"When you found him," she explained, her irritation very evident.

Goku was quiet for a few moments with his head bowed, and then finally he met her visage. "He was crying.." he told her slowly, as if weighing his words, "He felt.. odd."

"Define 'odd'."

"I don't know! Like.. there was a lot of pain and darkness in him. Like there was a lot of pain in that place."

Shelly ignored the orderlies that rushed around her, "You mean the gym?"

"Yeah, the gym," the younger responded off-handedly, "Go there and see for yourself."

"I will, as soon as North gets here."

It was tense in the room from emotions running high and ragged. Just after Vegeta was stabilized, a honey-hued orderly opened the door. "Ms. Hershmire?" the lady caught the doctor's attention, "We have her down in the observation room and we're ready for you." The god and the Namek entered the room. Piccolo looked at Goku and raised an eye ridge while King Kai solemnly surveyed the scene.

"Thank you," the blond announced, "but at the moment I want Reyeschi to start in my place. I'm on my way to the gym - there was an accident there. I have channel seventeen open on my walkie-talkie if you need to contact me." She then took North out into the hall with her.

As soon as the door shut, Piccolo spoke softly, "What happened, Goku?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly, "I know about as much as you."

"What happened to him?" the elder inquired as he approached the bed. He stood looming over the form of the prince.

"He passed out when we exited the East Wing. He started to lose coherency a bit before."

Piccolo responded softly, "So he was speaking.."

"Yes."

"What did he say?" his eyes shifted onto his ex-nemesis.

"It was. .broken language. Like a damaged record or something. He'd repeat words and connect them using improperly tensed verbs and it.. it.." he trailed off for a second before the words came to him, "I thought he was dying."

The conversation tapered, leaving an awkward silence in the air. North reentered the room with a weak smile, and walked up to Goku to put a hand on his shoulder. It didn't make him feel any better. Sighing, Piccolo sat in a chair and closed his eyes while listening to the hum of machinery. King Kai eventually sat next to him where he flipped through some brochures.

Goku glanced at the other males to ensure that their attention was elsewhere. Convinced that he could proceed, he tried to touch Vegeta's psyche, but one quick glimpse had him recoiling. He cried out, spun around, and leaned against the wall.

"Goku!"

"Son!"

Gritting his teeth, he waved them away without showing his face. They probably assumed he was simply unable to take the pressure of the situation. He hoped that this was the case. "I just.." he scrambled to recover and he shifted his weight onto his left arm, "I wish Shelly would get back soon." They eased back into their chairs, but kept a distinct eye on him.

Goku looked at the floor in misery. Lying too, now? he thought to himself.

I guess it was only a matter of time.

He felt his pulse race as he stared at the prince in utmost concern. Had he been too late? That glimpse revealed thoughts jumbled beyond recognition, almost as if they weren't thoughts at all. It made his temple throb just to recall that sense of.. chaos. Maybe Vegeta had stayed in too long. Maybe he had become a time bomb waiting to go off and all of this was unavoidable. Maybe--

Ms. Hershmire boldly stole into the room with her face lacking emotion. She held a packet of papers in her hand which were slightly wrinkled, as if she had been clutching them too tightly.

"I have the damage report," she said while lifting the papers for them to see. Drawing in a deep breath, her face scrunched up in what looked like restrained anger, "I'm ordering for the removal of Arestophenes' vocal cords."

"What about the damage?" King Kai asked quietly.

"Besides the setbacks in treatment with my patients?" Shelly growled with an inclination of her head. She paused briefly before continuing, "The electronics in corridors E26-E3 have to be reinstalled. That, however, is not a major concern."

"What is, then?" Piccolo practically demanded, "What happened?"

Shelly pursed her lips in thought before releasing a drawn-out sigh. "My gym," she said, "is now approximately two miles larger than it was." No words were offered in response. Obviously upset, the doctor informed them, "It took us three and a half hours to fully explore what used to be my gym. All the equipment? Gone. All the light fixtures? Gone. The windows even. Gone. The room is now roughly two miles cubed."

"How.. can that be?" Goku managed to ask. He had been there, yet, he still could not fathom that in a span of few minutes that two miles could have come to be.

"Wait, here's the best part," she tried to keep a steady voice, "The outer room dimensions _haven't changed_ to accommodate. From the outside, everything is the same. When you look in from the outside windows, all you see is black. It casts no light inside."

"Impossible!" King Kai shouted.

"As impossible as what happened to Vegeta!" Goku retaliated.

"What happened to him? What do you mean?" Shelly asked, narrowing her eyes.

His gut twisted as he realized his folly. Goku looked back at the prince before facing the lady in front of him.

"King Kai and I have.. We knew that he left the North Quad," he began, his words strained, "but, we also knew.. where he went."

"Why.. Why didn't you tell me before?" the blond yelled.

Goku peered at King Kai for assistance, but the god gave a helpless, meek shrug. The black-haired man closed his eyes as he tried to gather the appropriate combination of words. He finally said, "Because we knew where he went, but-" He had to tell the truth. He concluded, "-but we didn't know what it meant."

"Nor will you ever," Vegeta voice rang out. King Kai thought he had a heart attack from the surprise.

"Vegeta, you're awake!" the younger was ecstatic.

"Awake, yes," the brunette sat up, "Vegeta, no."

"What?"

"Silly, little Kakarot... Your Vegeta is dead. He died such a long time ago - died alone, so very alone," the smaller man stretched, sitting up, "He forgot everything - was stripped of his life. Vegeta lost his title.. lost being the Prince of Saiyans. Then, he died." Flexing his muscles once more, he smirked, "He forgot everything. Except you, Kakarot."

Laughing, Vegeta lightly shoved Goku, "Don't you get it? It's all about you! It's _always_ about you! Kakarot, the savior! Kakarot, the angel! Kakarot this; Kakarot that! Well, you can't save him. And as for me? Well, I'm just going to disappear, another piece - poof - gone. And you can't stop it. It's a part of him. It's something you can't touch."

"What is?"

"Vegeta."

"What's going on?" Shelly interrupted, "What do you mean? You say you aren't Vegeta, then who are you?"

The brunette laughed again, leaned backwards on the examination bed, and let his feet dangle, "I am Vegeta. Vegeta, Vegeta, Vegeta. A passing memory set into motion, but I'll be gone, it's only a matter of when. You'll never know the truth."

Piccolo commented, "Why not?"

"Because, Namek.. _Vegeta doesn't know_."

"_You_ don't know," the alien corrected.

"How can I? There was no explanation, no sense, no reason, no purpose. Like any creature, Vegeta is both afraid and fascinated by the unknown. But this isn't about technology, and this isn't about power - this is about imagination, emotions, living, _being_."

"What exactly is your point?" the doctor wondered aloud while silently attempting to analyze this new development.

"Who Vegeta is," he answered, "Is he his memories? Is he a personality? When people change, you say you don't know who they are anymore - you say they've become someone else. Is this true? What has changed? Who have they become? If Vegeta knows who he is or not, does that effect _who_ he is? Is he what you perceive him to be, or is he what he perceives himself to be? Is being who are you are static or relative?"

"What defines a person," King Kai began, "lies in their soul. What they are born with."

"But are those traits concrete? Is everything written in stone and decided pre-birth?"

"No one knows how life is created - how a soul is made," Shelly said firmly, "Not even the gods."

"Exactly," the form of Vegeta practically purred, "Circumstances change, and people change. Are they still the same person, though? Without knowing his past, Vegeta's hatred for Kakarot has transcended into trust. He clings to the only thing familiar, the only thing that links him to himself and to who he used to be. It is hard to imagine not knowing where you are - if you're safe or not. It is torture to not know if you had a family or not, if you were loved or not. It is more frightening to wonder if you sinned, if you were a bad person with no redeeming qualities. You'd rather not know, but yet, you need to. You need to define what happened to you, and who you are."

"You seem to know a lot," Piccolo observed.

"I know what Vegeta cannot comprehend. That is why my life is so short," the brunette replied with a curt frown, "To hold the answers means to only be a temporary respite. For me, I wanted to warn you."

"About what?" Goku asked anxiously.

The prince looked directly into his eyes. "Vegeta," he said, "must be destroyed."

"WHAT?" Goku screamed in rage.

"Your sentiments are flattering, but Vegeta poses too much of a threat to your world. Too much of a threat to everyone.. to all worlds. He can, and will die, but it is your duty to destroy him in the afterlife. You saw what he has done to Ms. Hershmire's gym, and you were lucky enough to find him and stop him. You may not be so lucky next time."

"No," Goku refused sternly, clenching his fists, "I will not."

"Did you forget what he did to that android? He can do it to you too."

"He will not!" the younger man yelled, standing up as he raised his voice once more, "I will not leave Vegeta! No person deserves that kind of treatment! Vegeta _won't_ hurt me.. or anyone else! He needs me now more than ever and I refuse to leave, no matter what the consequence!"

"Admirable," Vegeta smiled warmly, "I can see why he likes you."

"Well.." Goku fumbled for words pathetically, "...yeah."

"Take head of my warning," the brunette spoke seriously again, imploring in his body language, "Vegeta is more dangerous than you can possibly imagine. He is a risk to all life." His eyelids fluttered briefly and his expression turned bleak, "I wonder.." His eyes met Goku's again, "I felt no need for freedom. I felt no need to be. Was this ever real? Was I ever real?"

He sat then, silent and still, and staring ahead at nothing.

"Vegeta?" Goku asked. When he did not reply, he repeated, "Vegeta?" He waved a hand in front of the prince's face.

"What?" Vegeta said, shaking his head as if coming out of a trance, but the way his heart pounded he thought his chest was going to burst. His eyes darted around the room, and he suddenly was taking in huge gulps of air. He realized he was in shock, but he couldn't bring himself to move quite yet.

"Vegeta?" Goku asked more urgently.

In an instant, the elder was crouching behind the other Saiyan with eyes wide in disbelief.

"What's the matter?" Goku insisted, watching as the prince cowered.

Pointing, Vegeta choked out, "What the hell are they?"


	45. 45

45

Goku glanced at the others in confusion, "Vegeta?"

"What the _fuck_ are they?" he repeated while daring not to look away, as if doing so would cause catastrophic consequences. His chest rose and fell dramatically and his nose flared with each panicked intake.

"What do you mean?" Goku inquired as he tried to step beside Vegeta instead of lingering in front of him. The elder countered his move, staying staggered with his friend.

"Them!" he pointed to Ms. Hershmire, Piccolo, then King Kai, "What _are_ they?"

Realization hit the black-haired man: Vegeta could see them as they truly looked. The patches were doing nothing. They were useless.

Thinking quickly, Goku spoke the truth, "That's Ms. Hershmire. She's a doctor."

"And that.. green thing?"

"He's not a thing, Vegeta. He's a person," Goku corrected, "He's a Namekian, or a Namek if you will. He's my friend."

"Your friend?" Vegeta echoed with a questionative tone.

"Yes, you've met him before.." Goku spoke a bit more softly. He turned around then to face the shorter man fully, "..but you don't remember." Examining the finely pointed nails and razor sharp teeth, Vegeta decided he didn't quite like the Namek. He could crush the brunette with ease, and the prince wasn't looking forward to dying - not at this point in time.

"And him?" he asked about King Kai.

"That's.. North, he's also my friend," Goku bent the truth a little in order to not overwhelm the other man.

"Kakarot, you are aware that they are not.. normal?"

"Of course."

"...Where do they come from again?"

"Other planets: Piccolo from Namek, and North from.. from..." Goku suddenly found himself at a loss. He couldn't even pretend to know where King Kai originated from, much less make up a random place on the spot.

Luckily, the god intervened, "I was born on Kaioshin-sei and lived there till I was of age." Goku thanked him silently with a relieved look. "There's nothing wrong with coming from another planet," the kai boasted, "It's actually normal." Despite these bits of information, Vegeta still did not feel at ease, nor safe, with the so-called friends of Kakarot.

Sensing his fright, Goku placed a hand on his shoulder, "They won't hurt you. They like you."

"But I do not know them," Vegeta protested.

"What difference does it make?" Goku asked, but as soon as he did, he regretted it.

"What difference does it make..?" Vegeta's expression turned dark, "What difference does it make? **What difference does it make?**" Forgetting his anxiety, he shoved at the Saiyan he had previously sought protection from, "How could I possibly trust someone I don't know? How can I trust anyone when I don't know who **I** am? I'm sick of this bullshit! If I'm fucked in the head, then so be it! I just.. I don't know anymore! It doesn't fucking matter! I don't even know you, Kakarot! I don't know who you are!"

"Then why do you trust me?"

"_I don't want to!_" Vegeta screamed again, "If I kill myself, then maybe this will end. What difference does it make? I don't know anyone, so who will miss me?"

Goku grasped his arms tightly, immobilizing the prince. He spoke softly, quietly, "I know you. I will miss you."

"But I don't know _you_!"

"No. But you remember me, and that's a start."

The room trailed off into silence. Vegeta bowed his head and stared at his feet next to Goku's. His thoughts were swirling out of control, but he forced himself to focus.

Remember Kakarot? ..What did he remember about the man in front of him? Deep inside, he somehow was aware that he had done nothing to breach his trust. 'That the younger man had a sense of good judgment, and so - if these were his friends - then.. then maybe they were okay.

In a voice just above a whisper, the prince said, "It's nice to meet you all."

"The pleasure is mine," Piccolo warmly replied. He came forward and extended his hand to the Saiyan, hoping for the best. Vegeta hesitantly accepted, watching as his hand was nearly engulfed by the larger, green one. King Kai stepped up and did the same, not bothered by the brunette's scrutinizing eyes.

"Well," Shelly said, giving a bow, "now that introductions are through, perhaps we can get to the issue at hand."

"What do you mean?" Goku asked.

"You're have information," she stated while folding her arms, "that I want to know."


	46. 46

**46**

In the days to come, Vegeta's condition only compounded disheartening thoughts. Several times he needed to be reintroduced to King Kai, Piccolo, or Shelly. His moods were sporadic at best; his language often broken or mangled. Goku's comfort was questionably working, and Shelly practically lived out of her office - maintaining fatigue-like hours while performing conference call after conference call.

The worst was yet to come and everyone, even Vegeta, seemed to sense this. After a struggling week of examination, frustration, and exhaustion, the Prince of Saiyans began to hallucinate and break down. It began on a small scale with little things out of place, but it grew exponentially where he was speaking to Goku, carrying a conversation even, while the other man was not in the room. Anything overheard from the "discussions" was not encouraging. By that point, it was obvious that Vegeta was receding into a deep depression. He struggled bitterly, for Kakarot, to control himself, to struggle to dominate his disability. It had no effect, though to Shelly it was not in vain.

"At least he's trying," she told Goku one evening, "That's a good sign." He nodded, but whether it was out of agreement or acknowledgment the doctor could not tell. They sat together, not talking, barely staying awake. Both were famished and stressed beyond normal parameters. Speaking up, Ms. Hershmire told of the latest developments, "King Yemma can't figure out how Vegeta left the North Quad."

"No," Goku almost sneered, "of course not."

"This is the most intense case I've ever worked on.." the blond murmured more to herself.

"Just pray that it is not the first failure on your record," Goku countered while lifting himself from the plush chair and removing himself from the room. Shelly watched him go with dark-lined, bleary eyes. Sighing, she turned to her computer and continued her endless search.

Goku found Piccolo in Vegeta's room. The Namek sat cross-legged with arms folded, and had been watching the prince sleep. Hearing the younger Saiyan approach, he spoke quietly, "He didn't like the fact that you weren't here, but I convinced him that I wouldn't eat him if he went to sleep." Goku sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the prone figure of his once enemy.

"It hurts you to see him like this," Piccolo observed as he scratched away an irritation on his left eye-ridge.

Goku closed his eyes for a moment before replying, "I was so scared.. when I first found him." He extended his hand, but then, as if having second thoughts, he retracted it. He instead had his hands brace opposite biceps, as if he was holding himself. He looked up at Piccolo and into those dark eyes, "He was face down in a puddle of water. I thought he was dead." He paused, redirecting his gaze to the brunette, "He smelled so much of death."

"You have not showed him this type of concern before," Piccolo pointed out, and then added, "Neither this type of.. affection..."

Goku blushed lightly, eyebrows furrowing at the Namek, "I don't know exactly what you're implying, but.. Vegeta and I.. we're the last of our kind. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't even know that I'm a Saiyan. And if I did manage to find out, I probably wouldn't of cared."

"That's a big deal to you," the Namekian noted, shifting into a more comfortable position as he continued to look at Earth's constant savior.

"Yes," Goku nodded.

He waited a few minutes to speak again, "You know.. I knew I was different since I was a kid. It wasn't just that I was stronger, or faster, or more apt to fight. It was like I knew I _thought_ differently from everyone else. And I do. My mind is not a human mind - it is a Saiyan's. When I met Radditz, I felt nothing. He was my brother, but he was a stranger. If he threatened, I would do anything to protect what was threatened."

"But Vegeta was different," the other man guessed.

Again, Goku answered, "Yes." A small, strange smile came to Goku's face. Piccolo sensed something slightly amiss with the younger man, but before he could inquire, Goku was talking once more, "When I found out I was a Saiyan, I was scared. 'Scared of the knowledge that I was different, and scared that that knowledge would transform me. I was frightened of changing. My whole life was perfect. It could have been perfect. I was little innocent, naive Goku, and I didn't want to become a Saiyan. That's why, in my fight with Vegeta, I fought so hard. It wasn't just the Earth I was trying to save. I was trying to save myself from becoming this 'Kakarot' these aliens called me. But Vegeta was different, as you said. I suppose that's another thing I kept hidden to myself. I didn't spare Vegeta because I disagree with killing. It was more than that. I wanted him to live because I sensed something in him."

"Vegeta had a good heart," Piccolo guessed, smirking softly.

Goku flushed, suddenly looking sheepish, "I know this is going to sound stupid - and I mean really, really stupid - but, I thought he liked me."

"Oh yes," Piccolo teased, "He merely wanted to crush your bones, murder your family and friends, and destroy the planet you've made a home of. Why didn't I see that as a call of friendship before?"

"He was very adamant about me joining him."

"So he wanted to last of his people to join his escapades.. so?"

"Radditz's death he brushed off. Hell, he killed Nappa himself. But it was different when it came to me."

"How so?"

"Didn't I tell you Saiyan's have different minds? At a point during that fight I felt something. Vegeta wasn't fighting against _me_. He was unconsciously using me as a physical punching-bag for the fight against himself."

In disbelief, the older man said, "Come again?"

"Do you know what Vegeta told me before he died on Namek? He told me to kill Frieza because he made Vegeta the way he was. Vegeta was sick of being what other people wanted him to be. To Vegeta, he was living a life that was not his own. I think he wanted to be like me: free." He thought of something he himself had said once - that life without freedom was nothing. "My Vegeta did die a long time ago, " he sadly thought to himself.

"So what's this got to do with him liking you?" Piccolo snapped him out of his ponderings.

"I think he hates me for all the same reasons he likes me," Goku informed him with all honesty, "Or vice versa." His eyebrows scrunched up in mild confusion as he thought about what he just said. Why did it seem so simple one moment, then so convoluted the next? He took this time to sit down and attempt to relax.

Piccolo was silent with his eyes narrowed as he stared into space. He eventually came back to his senses, "That makes so much sense that it's frightening."

Goku laughed quietly as he suddenly found all the energy draining out of his body. He yawned - once, twice. His breathing steadied, and he leaned back. Within a minute, he was asleep. Piccolo put a blanket over the black-haired man and decided to check on King Kai. For some strange reason, he felt as if he were intruding on something private by simply being there.


	47. unsung dirge

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Vegeta stopped eating.

It wasn't long before he stopped responding to everyone.  
Even Kakkarot.

No one knew what he was thinking about because

Vegeta didn't voice his thoughts.

In fact, he was very good at saying nothing at all, or doing anything for that matter. It seemed a miracle that he even breathed. His eyes stared into empty space, like two dark orbs a lifeless body usually wore.

Nothing roused him.  
No promise, no plead, no stimulation could bring him out of his comatose stature. It was if Vegeta's mind packed its bags and departed to who knows where, leaving his physical form to rot away. Which it would.

And so it began: the slow process of Vegeta dying.

Even the ever optimistic Shelly Hershmire was looking gloomy - sending half-hearted smiles to Goku who usually looked away in return. The other Saiyan was not taking it well at all. Shelly was going to fail as a doctor, and Goku was going to fail as a protector, but more importantly, as a friend. He would not allow it. He would think of something.

Piccolo had gone to see the Grand Kai as per request of King Kai. King Kai himself was visiting Yemma in regards to tying up the whole record business. It was an entire accident that he knew of what happened to Vegeta in the first place. Well, when one thought about it, it seemed like the past so many weeks had been one big series of incredibly horrific, mostly unexplained accidents. If it was disorientating to him, he could only wonder how bad it was for Vegeta.

For the first time in a long time, it rained in Heaven. Not one of those spring showers, but more like the expression of nature itself mourning. Clouds of varying thickness and shade muted light to a sickly yellow color. The rain was cold, cooling the ground with its steady flow.

As Goku walked through the East garden, he wondered if they could ever wake Vegeta..  
..or if the man would stay withdrawn for the rest of eternity.  
He came across the fountain in which the two Saiyans had, with a lack of a better term, played in. He sat on the edge of the object and let the rain pelt him gently. He had never seen it rain in Heaven. With a sigh, he flopped backwards into the fountain, the inch or so of water soaking him, chilling him. He stared up at the bleak sky with tired eyes. Despite the frigidness, he felt relaxed. Here, where he'd enjoyed time with Vegeta, he found solace. The water lapped at his skin and swam through his hair. He spread himself out as he inhaled deeply with his thoughts unable to escape the subject of his prince.

He arrives unanticipated, undetectable, and abruptly. The man's first reaction is to survey the surroundings and interpret what he can. He notes the cold immediately as the cool rain drizzles upon his form, dampening his clothes and skin. He walks cautiously around the immediate area before stopping his movements all together. He closes his eyes and concentrates, feeling with his mind, body, and spirit. He reaches out, trying to grasp what he hopes to be there, what should be there no matter how faint...

.NUR .WON TUO TEG

A dying pulse far away ebbs pathetically. He makes that his goal, his complete center of attention. He places two fingers to his forehead, and is gone. 

.ECALP SIHT EVAEL  
_(7 days ! 3 hours)_

He comes to his destination. A prone figure, the form of a male, was on the ground. He is instantly to him when he sees him face down. The stranger lifts the lither figure out of the puddle and cradles his weak flesh with care. He checks for breathing, he checks for a pulse, and he is relieved.

It is time for him to depart, and he intends to take this new companion with him. This man he knows, but no longer knows. This man with pale skin and dark clothes looks fragile, so he holds him close. The visitor wonders what has happened, and where exactly they are. He sees no one else. He senses no one else.

...ekas ym rof ,esaelp ,eelf  
**If you go, you can't come back. Please, don't leave me.**

He would return them both home now, and all would be well.  
Kakarot took Vegeta home.

_(Kakarot !Goku?)_

Kakarot is _GOKU_!

**I _am_ Kakarot.**  
TThhee tthhuunnddeerr ccrraacckkeedd lloowwllyy, nnoo lloonnggeerr sseeeemmiinnggllyy aggrreessiivvee.. Kakarot let him feel his scar. "It hurt like a bitch," he whispered. Under the pads of his fingers, Vegeta felt the jaggedly healed skin and felt a pang of pity. Or perhaps it was sympathy? Living in a shitty apartment that could collapse at any moment, with the boom of the music next door trying to pathetically rival the cracks of thunder, and the building on the corner of Neinth and Immoderatus.. at this point.. Vegeta felt so horribly alone, he would've given near anything for at least the illusion of ssaaffeettyy. He had promised to never show his weaker side, a side he wished didn't exist, and there were nnoo eexxcceeppttiioonnss to this rule. Yet, somehow, there was always one eexxcceeppttiioonn:  
KKaakkaarroott..

Wwaass iitt ppoossssiibbllee? SSoommeehhooww hhee bbeelliieevveedd iitt to be iinn ssoommee ssoorrtt ooff wierd way, that Kakkarot, despite his confession of murder, was still pure and innocent. Like an angel of death - exempt. He could show Kakarot who he really was. There was nothing to fear.  
Nothing to fear from KKaakkaarroott.

Vegeta slept soundly. Vegeta slept soundly.  
VVeeggeettaa sslleepptt ssoouunnddllyy..

Kakarot slept soundly.

Hey...

Hey, Kakarot...

Wakey, wakey...

Goku's eyes opened to a dark grey sky and a light drizzle dotting his face, which was singing a hushed chorus over the surface of the water. He was terribly cold, he knew it, could sense it, could feel it, but it did not bother him; he did not shiver. Something was happening. Something terrible. Something you couldn't perfectly describe with words, or with pictures, or with anything. Just a feeling. Simply intangible. He could've been crying, but he wouldn't have noticed anyway.

Vegeta was dying. Dying on the outside, yes, but...

Vegeta's _soul_ was dying.

As Goku pulled himself up, with water cascading over his damp gi and bangs clinging to the side of his face, he breathed deeply. As Goku sat on the edge of the fountain, he looked back. As Goku ignored the clinging of hair and clothes, he stared into the clear liquid. As Kakarot opened his mouth, he began to speak. "If I could have anything or do anything," he whispered, "I would want you to be happy."

As Kakarot told his wish to no one, Piccolo was coming back from his meeting. As Piccolo was coming back, King Kai was returning from Yemma's. As King Kai was returning, Shelly was trying to wake Vegeta. As Shelly tried, Kakarot got up.

Kakarot from the East. Piccolo from the West. North from the North.  
Shelly and Vegeta stationary.

Vegeta. Vegeta would do anything for Kakarot.  
Kakarot. Kakarot would do anything for Vegeta.

Kakarot knew what he had to do.

They nearly arrived at the same time as one another. Piccolo, with news that the Grand Kai was as powerless as the rest. King Kai accomplished in his mission. Goku set with his own. The conversation ended when the door opened the Saiyan entered. He stared past the doctor, the Namek, and the Kai.  
Vegeta...  
He approached his prince and looked over the pale face and dark, unseeing eyes. He could do this. He could make this better. He knew he could.  
Vegeta would do anything for Kakarot.

"I can go into his mind," Goku said while his gaze stayed intently fixated on the brunette.

They spoke simultaneously.  
"What?"  
"Are you stupid?"  
"No, you can't!"

Kakarot closed his eyes for a moment in order to steel his resolve, "I can save him."

"It's too much of a risk!" King Kai shouted in his face, "You can end up just like him or worse!" Shelly silently agreed, as did Piccolo.

"But I can save him!" Kakarot retaliated, "I won't just sit here and see him fade into oblivion when there's something I can do about it!"

"I won't _let_ you!" North screamed.

"I WASN'T ASKING FOR YOUR PERMISSION!"

And Kakarot would do anything for Vegeta.  
**_Anything._**


	48. requiem

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Goku gently sat beside Vegeta on the mattress. He lifted the smaller hands, cold from the air-conditioning, and placed them over the brunette's chest so it appeared that he was resting. As he look up at the face of the elder man, he suddenly found himself wondering why this part of his body was not scarred. The rest of the prince's body was littered with all sorts of evidence of past pain. He had indented, smooth, scars, that looked like the skin had split and simply healed. He also had dark, jagged scars and there with plenty of light, protruding blots and lines to go along. Vegeta's body told a history of conflict and loss. Yet, his face was completely unmarred.

The younger Saiyan thought back to a Vegeta he knew - one that came to him from all the way across the quadrant. He knew then. His face had no scars because it was the same reason Vegeta wore gloves. It was the same reason he wore the same outfit every day without fail. The same reason he blushed with given a compliment.

The real question was: Could it be the same reason, upon his return, he could lounge in the nude?

"Vegeta.." he said aloud, though he was not entirely certain why, "We are in this together."

Shelly, Piccolo, King Kai.. they were all present, just silently lingering in the back. They knew their protests fell upon deaf ears. Nothing could convince Goku to act otherwise, so they sat with grim expressions, watching.

The black-haired man believed he was ready.

He was not prepared.

The second he delved into Vegeta's mind, he recoiled. Hard. He wasn't aware what had happened or what was happening or how much time had passed or didn't pass, but he did know of something intangible, unnamable, and haunting. He wasn't aware of the tears streaming down his cheeks, or the hoarse sobs being torn from his throat. He vaguely was aware that he was crying out some words. He definitely recognized that he was saying Vegeta's name.

Vegeta, he thought, this is what happened to Vegeta. All the pain inside his head was Vegeta's pain. It wasn't injury pain, not a physical type of pain. It was a pain that cared not to bother with a body, but which attacked what mattered most.

And this was only a taste.

His head was pounding, and he found himself on the floor babbling incoherently in sadness. He blinked his eyes to clear them of tears. King Kai was by his side, trying to lift him up.

"That's it," said North, "We leave. Piccolo, help me get Goku to his feet and let's get him out of here. I've seen enough."

Goku heard every word, and every word made the Saiyan construct one of his own. Whatever was in Vegeta's head was terrifying. It truly scared Goku more than anything had ever scared him in his life. Yet, beneath the pain, beneath the horror and the unknown, was Vegeta - alone. Alone as he was when imprisoned on Freiza's ship. Alone as he was when his home world was destroyed. Alone as he was when he was ordered to purge planets. Alone as he was when he lost his first fight. Alone, like how Goku found him.

The younger man would not stand for it. Drawn back to himself, he fought against the arms bound around him. He suddenly found himself very, very angry. "Fuck you!" he spat, glaring at the Namek and the god, "How dare you! You may have resigned to believing you cannot help Vegeta, but how dare you try to stop me from trying? He may not mean that much to you, but Vegeta is my friend. And you don't understand him! You don't understand me. He needs me, and I can _help_ him. Doing nothing now would.. would just be accepting failure. How could you expect me to allow that? How could you ever believe I would just walk away from someone who needs me?"

Breathing deeply, he wiped his face off on his sleeve while waiting for their responses. Piccolo spoke first, "Just don't presume that you're the only one who cares for Vegeta." He left the implications hanging as a faint reminder of life before the prince's disappearance.

King Kai looked up at his old pupil with small, sad eyes, "We've lost a great warrior. I don't want to lose another."

"No, not lost," Goku insisted, "Not yet. Not ever."

Shelly spoke softly and with a hint of remorse, "Must you always play the hero?" Even her body language was strained with emotion. The Earth-raised Saiyan calmed slightly at the sight of such a strong woman in a vulnerable state. It was as if she hadn't wanted to say the words, but felt an obligation to release them. 'As if doing so had eased her mind.

"This isn't about me," Goku retaliated with the same amount of care she had given in her words.

He turned away from them and rejoined the prone figure of his prince on the bed. The anger melted away, leaving him feel awkward and empty. He had to wonder if this was how Vegeta felt. He extended his hand towards the other man to make some sort of comforting gesture when he paused. His lips parted to allow himself to take a deep breath. He was trembling. He was scared.

But he had to do this.

Closing his eyes, he rested his palm on the other man's temple. The touch mirrored the mental one he performed, and this time, Goku forced himself to stay.

Vegeta's mind was cluttered, but not with thoughts or emotions or memories. He didn't know what it was, but it seemed to acknowledge his presence - or was that Vegeta? It was dark, and Goku felt that intense fear again. The fear that he wouldn't he able to help Vegeta, and the fear that he didn't know what he was encountering. Unfamiliar fears began to creep inside of him - fears of the darkness, the coldness, the loneliness. This wasn't about life and death - it was perpetual.

He was sick. Goku wasn't sure if he was referring to himself or Vegeta.  
There was only Kakarot and Vegeta in this place.  
But this is Vegeta's mind?

And everyday it rained on end, and his breath could be seen, and the cold seeped through his clothes, through his skin, through his muscle, all the way to the bone. It hurt him he was so cold. It hurt to be alone.

Was he.. going crazy?

There was no sense of time. No noise. Nothing.

They were _nowhere_.  
It was a part of Vegeta. It was feeding off of him.

Some type of role had been shifted. This wasn't just about being wrong, or being disturbing; this was about morphing into a threat, a danger.

R.this/vegeta,wasforgave G  
.this/vegeta,wasforgRave I U  
this/vegeta,wasforgRave. N & I  
This/vegeta,wasforgRave. N L  
ThisforgRave/vegeta,was. O T  
ThisgRavefor/vegeta, was. C Y  
This gRavewasfor / vegeta. E  
This grave was for Vegeta. N  
This grave was for Vegeta. T

WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME?

Neither left the other.  
_We were separated._  
Neither betrayed the other.  
_I seek you and you seek me._

Something had burrowed deep into my heart, planting its seed of mortification and bitter determination along with it.

It grew now. Developed, matured into something else.

Kakarot is Kakarot. This is freedom. This pain is freedom.

The lightning crackled across the sky, illuminating everything for just the briefest of moments. It cast the dark city in sharp relief, making it look so surreal that the degradation didn't seem to matter. The thunder that followed was deep and crisp - the kind that rattles your teeth. Rain poured from the so-called heavens, drenching him, saturating him, chilling him.  
His clothes were heavy, but not cumbersome. He consciously thought of the sack on his shoulder, and the direction of this thoughts shifted. He had begged, pleaded with him...  
Please, don't go...  
It's not safe...

Please don't leave me...  
...Vegeta.

He kept his promises.  
His boots kept his feet dry as they strode through puddles that were inches thick. When the weather got this bad, no one would come outside. The rain was so hard and cold it was practically hail, and it matted his hair against his face and neck. Thick droplets tried to cloud his eyes, but he'd blink them away or wipe them gone with his hand. Street lights were engulfed in fog, making them dim embers in a sea of humidity.  
He had to wait for the discharges of electric light to read signs only a few feet away from him. He tried to follow the reflective white line of the road, and he'd hurry when it felt safe for him to do so. Finally, he came to it:

Neinth and Immoderatus

He set his sack down not-so-gently and was rewarded with a splash of water against his shins. With partially numbed fingertips, he undid the draw string and produced a bottle from inside. He extracted a lighter from his inner coat pocket, and then he bent over, shading the bottle and lighter. He flicked it several times before a fragile flame finally erupted. His glass bottle had a handkerchief sticking out of the neck, and he held the lighter to it. It was damp, but it eventually succumbed to the fire.  
He threw the glass container perfectly and it crashed through a window. He waited, and waited, until he saw the flames licking the inner walls - the orange heat consuming the room till it spread to new regions. It didn't take too long until it went up into a blaze. Satisfaction curved his lips and he put a cigarette to them. He didn't even attempt to light the little cancer stick as he watched the inferno. The rain soaked it, but he could smell the tobacco and could taste the faint minty flavor of menthol even through the filter.

He walked through the field. His music was the sound of his feet crunching the frost-bitten grass. Dodging poles left and right, he paused at one post in particular. It leaned slightly to one side as if someone had used it for support. He kept walking until the grass did not grow and mud clung to his boots. He didn't pause to remove a piece ration from his sack, even when he almost tripped on a rock. He had to keep moving. If he did not pause, then there was a slight chance available to him.  
His journey was quiet, as he had no need for words. No need to speak to himself - even to think aloud.  
He came across a graveyard next, wide and expanse, and sad. He knelt before entering the land of unmarked headstones. His eyes closed as he raised his right hand to his forehead, touching it softly. The action was repeated as his hand was drawn down to the middle of his chest, then back up to his left shoulder, and finally, his right. The man stood, adjusted the sack over his back, and meandered through the cemetery of the nameless and forgotten. He did not stumble as he walked across the craggy earth, and he never, ever looked back.  
Eventually the tombstones became sparse and the poles returned - their purpose still unknown. His realized that his feet ached, yet he also realized there was nothing he could to do alleviate the pain. Instead, he took a drink of water and ignored the growl of his stomach.  
The poles dissipated as quickly as they had come.  
They had made way for another area dedicated to people who did not exist. The male found himself in front of a building with no windows, no doors, no entrances or exits. His inspection proved thus, yet he still found hope. Hand prints, slightly smaller than his own, were scattered over one wall. He held his own hand up, as if to feel what the other had felt.

Rejection.

He continued on for an indeterminate amount of distance. What he did know was that the wasteland he was traveling in was giving way to something new, something dark. A church, perhaps. It could have been anything. He strode forward and found that it had a door, which was peculiar. What seemed more disturbing was that it was open, as if inviting him. Diffused light cast in behind him, and, as he stepped into the darkness, he knew no more.

Vegeta's voice was lost in the thick blanket of the threshold and the light was swallowed, leaving him alone. He had never felt so vulnerable than in that moment.

Spinning around, he screamed the prince's name only to hear no response. Had he lost Vegeta? To be completely without Vegeta was like missing a whole part of his life, a part of himself. Faith is what made him crave the other Saiyan's presence. Faith that the brunette would have the courage and conviction to achieve his freedom. Even if Freiza was dead, that didn't mean the iceling did not have a stranglehold over the prince. He needed Vegeta like a ship lost at sea needed a lighthouse - a beacon of structure and a point of reference.

His ears rang when he eventually gave up on calling out, at least, for the time being. A bizarre sensation swept over him then. It was if his mind, body, and spirit were loosely detached from one another and each were trying to fulfill the opposing objectives he had desired as a whole person.

After awhile, he focused enough to recognize that he was sitting down. There was a foreign tightness in his throat and a discomforting sting in his eyes. Then, he felt a stupid, small smile come to his face, and he lifted his head as he spoke.

"Vegeta, I'm sorry," he declared as hot wetness hit his cheeks, "Sorry I couldn't tell you the truth about me. I didn't know. Isn't that lame? I didn't know until now. Vegeta, the truth is, you remember me because you want to. I'm your freedom. What you don't understand is that you are mine." Wiping his face off on his sleeve, the black-haired man clambered to his feet. "Vegeta," he said, scared, but determined, "I would search the entire universe to find you."

He took a step forward and made contact with something.  
I give out a cry of surprise, and it gives out a cry of surprise. It is not an echo. The vocal tune is familiar.

"Kakarot?"

"Vegeta?"

Kakarot cried.  
It was Vegeta's turn.  
They would sleep well.  
This was their curse.  
Their blessing.

Kakarot made a promise that night.  
And he kept it.  
It burned  
to  
the  
ground.

The pain was still there. The kind of hurt that gets worse over time. Yet, he took notice. Despite the intensely brutality, he was aware that something was protecting him.  
Vegeta...

Little prince, little prince, let him in?

There was more to this.

Trust...  
...  
Trust me, Vegeta.  
Show me..  
everything. We're in this together, so just let go.

_It's going to be alright._

Just let go...

He suddenly felt sick, tired, and weak - like he was dying, but death would not come.  
Where was he? Who was he? This was too much.  
Too much...  
Too much to handle by oneself.  
Vegeta, let go.

It'll be alright.

We're in this together.

Tentative?

Don't be afraid...  
not of me. You know I would never hurt you.

Penitent?

Vegeta, you're going to lose me. In order not to, you're going to have to hurt me. It's okay. I know you don't want to. I know you'd regret a necessity.

Hey, the truth is.. someone like you should not be sad.  
Vegeta, I don't know how well you can make semblance of my thoughts I project to you. I don't know if this is making any bit of difference.  
I want you to know something else. Something important. I need to be honest.  
I didn't save your life just because you had a good heart.  
I saved your life because your heart was like mine.

Vegeta, for what it's worth, here's the truth...

Kakarot told him. Instantly, Vegeta opened up to him.

It was worse than Goku could have ever imagined. It was too much. And crying, sobbing, broken, relieved-- he took what he could. Taking in the darkness, the haunting, the everything that infected Vegeta, he let it consume himself.

This was Vegeta's freedom, but it itself was a restriction.

He offered more than the pain could. He offered answers. He offered true freedom. He'd offered the truth.

The pain ebbed...  
...and finally subsided.

Then Vegeta told Kakarot his truth.

Kakarot smiled regardless of the exhaustion and fatigue. All it took was a little faith and a little sacrifice. The fear had melted away to reveal a strong conviction and the sadness was replaced with joy - the joy of triumph. Kakarot had saved Vegeta, and Vegeta had saved himself.

They were sitting on an old, green and brown plaid couch. This time, however, the lights were off and the music was low. A classical, or jazz, or electronic ambient played through the damaged speakers - which occasionally added its own sound track to the background music by hissing or crackling like a phonograph. Vegeta leaned against Kakarot, depleted, but safe. Kakarot brought his arm to rest over the brunette's back, and his hand lightly massaged the prince's shoulder. The thunder was a dull roar as it cascaded into the distance. The storm was passing, but both of them knew it would be back. It would come and go.

Vegeta rolled from his side onto his back, resting his head in the younger's lap. Kakarot finished taking a drag of his cigarette and he let out a puff of smoke, aiming it away from the both of them. Meeting the other man's gaze, he raised an eyebrow, silently asking for Vegeta to tell what was on his mind.

A small smile crept onto the elder's face. It was genuine and content. Kakarot found himself mirroring it. Without really knowing why, his hand moved to the nape of Vegeta's neck, and then his fingers began to play with the dark brown strands it found there. They sat in comfortable silence - simply enjoying each other's company. Kakarot twirled the hair between his fingers lazily while taking slow drags.

Then Vegeta's lips turned up into a mischievous smirk, and he said, "Fag."

They both laughed like I was the best joke they had ever heard in their entire life.

Vegeta opened his eyes and felt a weight upon his chest. Judging by the mop of black hair that jutted out in nearly every direction, it was Kakarot. The larger man was unconscious, but he nudged him anyways. A second or so later, Shelly, Piccolo, and King Kai were around them. The doctor spoke urgently to him, "Vegeta? Are you alright? What happened? How're you feeling? Is it safe to move Goku?"

The prince felt too tired to deal with this shit, so he merely replied with, "Lady, his name is Kakarot." He looked down at the other Saiyan, "He did something to me. It took the energy out of him. He appears fine."

"You don't remember?"

"I do remember some things. I remember Kakarot. If you're not a bit more specific, I'm afraid I can't help you."

"You were.. chronically ill."

"Doesn't surprise me."

"Oh?"

"With me knowing what I know now, and with me having seen what I have seen, I don't think much would surprise me."

"What do you know? What have you seen?"

Vegeta looked at the other two males in the room. "This broad asks a lot of questions, huh?" he asked. It was more rhetoric than anything else. He turned to the blond and sighed, "I know that you're a doctor, but I don't know how I know. I know that these two men next to me aren't a figure of my imagination. I know Kakarot keeps his promises and that he... That he needs rest. Now be quiet and leave us in peace." He promptly closed his eyes and ignored any sounds he heard.

He drifted into a warm, comforting darkness.  
A darkness that was new to him.  
A darkness that was inclusive.


	49. nine of the forty

This chapter has some minor formatting not supported by fanfiction dot net.  
To view this part go to this location:  
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(Delete spaces and then you have the correct address.)  
Thanks, Chuey.

nowhere-- nine of the forty

When he opened his eyes, the landscape was bleak in all directions. The cold air caressed his skin, causing him to shiver. He felt himself walking as he slowly came to himself. He heard the slight padding sound from his shoes against the freezing earth. He noticed that the ground was dry. With this he knew that everything had changed. Raising his head, his eyes peered across the scenery, just making out a dark, indistinguishable shape in the far distance. He was going back.

The landscape was bleak in all directions when he opened his eyes. The cold air caressed his skin, but he ignored it. He felt himself walking as he slowly came to himself. He heard the slight crunch from his boots as he stepped across the hard ground scattered with loose rocks. Dry, he thought. Oddly enough, it seemed too dry. Where was he going? Stopping and squinting, he examined the horizon. A smudge of darkness stood out in contrast to the clouds. He knew then that that was his destination.

Vegeta awoke.  
Goku awoke.

Time passed...  
...slowly.

Bleary eyes opened to a dark green ceiling that had matching dark green walls. Inhaling deeply, the young man sat up with some effort which caused enough noise to attract attention to himself. In the chair next to his bed sat Shelly, but she shook off her sleep upon hearing him. Smiling, she got up and asked, "How are you feeling?" The blond felt his forehead with the back of her hand. The skin was warm, but not overly so.

With a mouth that felt like sandpaper, he managed to reply, "..V..Vegeta.?"

"Vegeta's fine," Shelly assured, gently pressing him back into the mattress.

"W-Where?" Goku choked out, trying to will his strength not to leave him. He barely resisted Shelly's actions, but he had to be sure. His memory was not clear about what had happened.

"He has a room next door," answered the doctor, "and you need rest." Goku wished he couldn't agree. His eyes felt sore and heavy.

Fade to black...

...and he woke up to the sun warming his face. Blinking sleepily, he directed his gaze away from the bright light. Taking a deep breath, he brought his hands to wipe away the sandmen. For a moment he sat up on his elbows then decided to stand. Wobbling slightly, he took a moment to gain his bearings before crossing the room to the dresser. There were some plain white clothes inside - pajamas by the look of them. He switched into them, feeling refreshed from the simple attire change. Stretching, he yawned and decided to take the robe presented as well. He tied the belt as he headed for the door.

After opening the door, he turned left. He went down to the next room and knocked. An orderly answered. It was a short woman with long, dark hair, a creamy sort of brown colored skin, and a bindi dot on her forehead. "May I help you?" she asked politely.

"Is this.." Goku had to pause because his mouth tasted like something had died in it, "Is this Vegeta's room?"

"No, sir," the woman replied, "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No, I'm okay. Thanks," Goku replied before turning around and going the other direction. He passed his door and went to the next one. He knocked and waited. There was no response. He knocked again, but he still heard no movement inside, and still the door did not open. He gave the handle a try, and it turned.

The drapes where pulled back to let the sunlight in, and everything looked.. clean. Sky blue walls with navy furniture adorned the room, but it didn't seem to feature decorations. The bed was unmade. He approached it and, sparing a glance over his shoulder, picked up the top sheet. Hesitantly, he brought the fabric to his face and he inhaled. His suspicions where confirmed.

Yes, this was Vegeta's room.

So, where was Vegeta?

It was as if his mind had been read, because a voice startled him by saying, "He's outside right now." Goku dropped the sheet and spun around. Piccolo stood at the doorway, leaning against the frame.

"You surprised me.." Goku half-heartedly scolded as he moved to make the bed. The Namek stayed put, merely watching the younger Saiyan as he fixed more than he had disrupted.

Piccolo asked the question Goku knew was coming, "How are you feeling?"

"Alright," Goku responded in a normal, even voice. Truth was, he didn't know, but since it wasn't bad, it had to be good, right? He tucked the sheets into the mattress and replied, "How are you feeling?"

Being polite, Piccolo answered, "Fine. I am concerned about you and Vegeta though." For some reason, Goku gave out a short bark of laughter. Piccolo did not question it, "Why don't you go see him? I know that's what you want to do." The Saiyan nodded. It had to be that obvious, didn't it? Goku wasn't one for subtlety - not usually. He was worrying he realized, and it was rather unjustified because if something was wrong he knew Piccolo would have told him.

Turning away from the now immaculate mattress, the black-haired man inquired, "Where exactly is he?"

"The West Garden."

"Thanks," Goku said, then paused. He put his hand on the Namek's shoulder and said it again, "Thank you."

Piccolo smiled and gave a combination of a nod and a shrug, "It's the least I could do." The shorter man departed, followed by his friend who had no desire to stay in an empty room. They parted at the fork at Station Access West, both waving goodbye.

The sunlight was refreshing and warm on his skin. The wind was that perfect comfortable cool that revitalizes you, but never gives you a chill. There was a lingering smell of humidity in the air - sweet and light. His gaze turned upward and he scanned the white puffs of clouds that leisurely crossed the sky.

It was a beautiful day.

He shed his robe and slung it over the back of an empty chair at the patio. He scanned the nearby tables and benches, but there was no sign of that distinctive flame of hair he sought. He stopped an orderly who was passing through.

"Excuse me, but have you seen a man about this high with tall, spiky hair? You can't miss him," Goku gestured the height.

The worker pointed, "Sure did. He went that way - into the hedge."

Goku thanked him and entered the maze. It was wonderfully crafted with certain walls made out of certain flowers or certain plants - some rare and exotic, while others reminded him of Earth. An aerial view, which one could see from a balconey of the institute, revealed that it was also a very complex piece of art. Unlike a traditional maze, however, one was unable to become lost. Stationed at intersections were signs that revealed the way out, the center, or the nearest rest area. The hedge maze was a place where you could go for a private outing. Goku wandered rather aimlessly, but drifted slowly towards the center. He rather viewed the situation as a game of hide and seek; it was fun. Besides, it was a nice day outside, after all.

He changed direction and followed the arrows that pointed towards "Kilkov's." Judging by the fact that several locations were names of people, he came to the conclusion that specific areas were dedicated to various philanthropists who supported Shelly's vision. He was aware of the same idea on Earth's various hospitals.

Goku went straight, took a right, followed it forward through three intersections and then decided on the next left. He was near Kilkov's when he picked something up just on the edge of his hearing. He tipped his head to the side and took a moment to listen. Shrugging to himself, he continued on. It gradually became louder the closer he got to his destination and he slowed his pace when he could finally make it out. Someone was singing:

"Why do you build me up - build me up - buttercup, baby, just to let me down - let me down - and mess me around?..."

Goku couldn't help it, he smirked. He recognized that voice and it took all that he had to not burst out laughing. He cautiously stepped closer, trying to be as quiet as possible.

"And worst of all - worst of all - you never call, baby when you say you will - say you will - but I love you still..."

Vegeta was sitting under an enormous tree looking utterly content. He was oblivious to his peeping Kakarot, and continued singing quite happily, "I need you - I need you - more than anyone, darlin'.. you know that I have from the start. So build me up - build me up - buttercup, don't break my heart..."

The younger man exposed himself. Vegeta turned a shade of red.

"And what are you doing eavesdropping, pray tell?" the prince asked in an accusing voice.

"Enjoying hearing you sing your own backup," Goku replied smartly.

"Ah," said Vegeta. He smiled. Goku smiled.

Home is where the heart is.


	50. The Intermission

_Nowhere  
50:_  
**------------The  
Intermission**

Rearrangement.  
Such a simple description.  
Such utter pain, or such utter joy from the act.

Rearrangement.  
Such an intricate act.

For him it brought upon something more than he could handle. The shifting of an entire perspective.  
This is the Prince of Saiyans as a child. This is Vegeta at age five.

This boy was taught many things by his father. He was taught that he belonged to a great and powerful race. He was taught to be proud of his people, and of himself. He was taught not to show weakness lest it would destroy you, just as it destroyed their enemies.

From the fountain on knowledge Vegeta's father obtained through his life of careful breeding and meticulous repetition, he had decided since the boy's birth to take him on his missions as soon as he was able to stand and walk. King Vegeta believed it built character. It did. The kind it did is another subject matter.

A boy who's life had just begun, would soon think of, hope for, and eventually deny his own mortality.

Vegeta was a Saiyan, but Vegeta was a person.  
Just like every other person, he could make his own decisions and come to his own conclusions.  
One could look back on this prince and say, "It's not embracing what's being presented. It's lying to yourself for survival."

Vegeta's earliest memory is being with his father on a purging mission. It wasn't even a battle. It was a domination - a show of power, strength, and arrogance. It was the pride of the Saiyan race. It was creating a name to be feared and respected. It was the act of destroying weakness.

It was murder.

This was the Prince of Saiyans as a child wanting to vomit all over the new armor his father had given him. This was Vegeta at age five wishing he could just go home and cry. This was a small boy wanting nothing more than to erase the memories of flesh and screams. Flash forward two decades and the story has changed. In this version, the prince viewed the battle field with satisfaction. The new there-and-then says that he stood by his father's side beaming with approval. No, he hadn't smiled because it was expected of him or because he feared the consequences if he acted otherwise. He hadn't had night terrors for days afterward. Of course he didn't hate his father. The Prince of Saiyans contains no flaws.

Within a short span of time, his species was nearly annihilated. His father - his family - was dead, and he was alone. He was to take the place of his parent. He inherited the throne from his father posthumously and he was to continue the legacy that had been determined since before his birth. He was to crush his enemies and destroy all weaknesses.

Yet, he called himself the Prince of Saiyans. He called himself Vegeta.

You lie to yourself to change yourself to save yourself.  
Then there is no difference between a truth and a lie.  
And then there is no difference between right and wrong.  
There is no black and white.  
It's all grey.

Rearranged. Blissfully, unfortunately unaware.


	51. 51

This chapter is a pictoral one for a change. I felt like doing something different, and needless to say, my hand is now suffering because of this. Hahaha. Below is the text from the chapter. It isn't much because, well, I did it all (the entire chapter) by hand and in six hours. If you'd like to see this chapter in it's true form, meaning, the form it is meant to be seen in, then follow the instructions below.

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2) Go to this URL minus the spaces: www. gotyaoi. com/ felix/ lit/ nowhere51. html  
3) E-mail me or leave a review if you have any troubles and I will update this chapter with another, optional URL. If problems persist, I'll figure out something so you can view it either by sending it to you directly or finding another place to upload the pictures to.

**nowhere 51**

1. VEGETA  
My exploration of all the gardens has led me here. Kakkarot and the doctor accompany me today, and I lead them off the beaten path. The stroll is pleasant - the weather permitting. Kakkarot performs small chat with the woman, but I refuse to take part.  
We come out of a grove and are greeted with a grassy field. It rises in the distance, becoming rolling hills. The tree line begins at the top of the hill before us, but that's not what really catches my eye. What does interest me is the several slabs of stone protruding from the earth. I proceed uphill.  
There's writing on these pieces of stone: names. I know these are graves. Shelly speaks so softly to Kakkarot that I cannot hear. Now I feel a sense of foreboding come over me. What is it that she dare not tell me?  
I look over the tombstones with interest. Maybe these were patients who didn't make it.

YOU DIDN'T MAKE IT  
_I DIDN'T MAKE IT_

TÄR(E)KAK...

death becomes me  
_me_

2. GOKU  
Shelly joins Vegeta and I today. I guess she wants to see how he's progressing. She probably wants to keep an eyes on me as well. We chat about nothing in particular as Vegeta leads the way. He likes to explore the beauty of Heaven; and who wouldn't? The forest suddenly opens to a hill. Vegeta pauses to look around before he trudges up the incline. It isn't very steep.  
"Goku," Shelly nearly whispers my name. I look at her then at Vegeta. He's approaching what appears to be some tombstones. "This is Heaven's Cemetary," she says, "This is a dedication to people who have died when they were already dead." Died when they were already dead?  
Vegeta calls for me, and I catch him before he falls. He doesn't respond to me as his nose starts bleeding.

3. SHELLY  
My conversation with Goku is casual, but I fear he may only be wearing a calm exterior. I know apperances can be deceiving. Vegeta, for example, acts very sane and very normal at times. I join the two Saijins today for two reasons: 1) I wish to observe them, and 2) I do not want them both to stray too far from the institution unaccompanied.  
However, due to my neglegence, it seems that Vegeta has wandered and led us to the Cemetary. I feel uncomfortable with having a patient as delicate as Vegeta here. I inform Goku of where we are; and only moments after Vegeta calls for his friend. He starts to fall, but Goku thankfully catches him. That is when Vegeta's nose begins to bleed. He may be having a seizure or who knows what else. I scream for Goku to take him back. In an instant, they are gone.  
That is when I notice it:  
A new grave.

VEGETA


	52. fivetwo

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**fivetwo- nowhere**

YOU DIDN'T MAKE IT  
_I DIDN'T MAKE IT_

"Silly, little Kakarot... Your Vegeta is dead. He died such a long time ago - died alone, so very alone."  
Don't think of this as suicide, but more like a mercy killing.

"He forgot everything - was stripped of his life. Vegeta lost his title.. lost being the Prince of Saiyans. Then, he died."  
"One time, I wanted to be a Super Saiyan. I think if I could have anything, it'd be the memory of what a Super Saiyan is."

"He forgot everything, except you, Kakarot."  
Once I knew a man whose name was Kakarot, but he wasn't the Kakarot I knew.  
This makes no sense.

"It took everything away and then it tried to steal you!"

Kakarot. Kakarot would do anything for Vegeta.  
-He arrives unanticipated, undetectable, and abruptly.  
-He decided he would do all in his power to help the other man.  
-"What will happen to Vegeta if he dies?"  
-"I will never leave you. Ever."  
-Rain, sleet, or snow - dry, arid, or toxic - Heaven, Hell, or Earth -- he would be by Vegeta's side.  
-Kakarot knew what he had to do.  
-Kakarot made a promise that night. And he kept it.  
-Kakarot told him (the truth).

death becomes me  
_me_

He smelt too much of death.  
"Kakarot, am I in Heaven?"  
Maybe they're disorientated by the smell. They must notice it too. Then again, who can't? Even to a human, death is a stong, pungent odor.  
"You want to help me? Bash my head in! Hit me till I fucking stop bleeding!"  
The stench of filthy, rancid death stung the air like a repulsive perfume.  
"Vegeta must be destroyed."  
"If I kill myself, then maybe this will end!"  
"He smelt so much of death."  
And so it began: the slow process of Vegeta dying.  
This grave was for Vegeta.  
That is when I notice it: A new grave.

Vegeta. Vegeta would do anything for Kakarot.  
-He put his faith and trust into the man he knew to be a Super Saiyan. There would be vengence. There would be punishment.  
-Vegeta was comforting him.  
-"I'll never doubt you again!"  
-Then Vegeta told Kakarot his truth.

"You would never hurt me intentionally."

"Feeling humiliated..?"  
'You don't even know what humiliation is.'


	53. 53

**Nowhere: 53**

Flashback.

Back to the time when memories weren't scarce. Back to the time when he was whole. Far, far back to that place.

Back to a time just beginning. Back to a time that was ending. Back to that place far, far away.

Remnants. Remains. Death. Decay.

There was no ki  
around him  
and no ki  
radiating from  
anything.

Back to a time when there were answers.

Little prince, welcome to _nowhere_.

His assumption had been correct. He just had to keep moving. Over the heaps of junk, garbage, and waste, the land stetched - flat - for miles in all directions. A wide trail roughly twenty feet across lined the landscape to the horizon. He had decided to follow it, but then wondered what sort of vehicle made these.. tracks on the dusty "road." He decided to take a nap before moving out. It was cold, but he could make due in the trash pile where the wind wasn't directly on him.

He awoke to rain lightly pattering his face. With his head already tipped back, he opened his eyes to stare up. The sky was a blotchy, smoky yellow and incredibly dim. The clouds looks swollen, ready to burst, and trapped - encaged. How silly to think that though. How could a cloud be trapped or encaged? They were just clouds. He shook his head as if to clear it and he got to his feet.

The worn trail was longer than he had anticipated and he found he did not have the strength to fly its distance. So, instead, he kept his eyes on his goal and walked in a steady rhythm. Hours passed, but day refused to turn into night. He couldn't make out where the sun was located or if it was even moving across the sky.

More hours passed. Maybe it wasn't even hours. How long had he been walking? A glance over his shoulder revealed an image identical to the one in front of him. What else could he do? He kept on.

It was like he was moving within a photograph - an image of a place captured at a particular point in time that never ceased remaining static. And still, no ki. Still, no sign of life other than his own. He had no choice. He could not turn back now. He continued on.

Ignoring hunger pangs and dizzy spells, he more stumbled than walked as he followed the tracks. His vision was swimming, but as he looked at the prints - the depressions in the ground - he envisioned something enormous. Something - he didn't know what it was - with stone and bone. It didn't make any sense and he felt sick.

What if the whole planet was poisoned? What if it was slowly killing him?

No.. Don't think like that... You're just exhausted, he told himself.

He knew he was swaying back and forth. The road bobbed and kept shifting positions. He was on the left side.. strafing.. on the right.. steering off course.. bearing straight... His eyes drifted shut and he fell forward. It felt so good lying there on the cold ground that he couldn't will himself to stand.

His breathing was harsh and loud to his ears, but it also seemed like the only sound that existed. Even the wind was silent. His eyes, barely open, were gazing in front of him. He moaned softly as his stomach lurched and his head ached.

He could see them now clearer than before. Great, monstrous things neither living nor dead had made this journey. How many times? Or.. how many of them? He could see long, boney legs with skin like tar stretched over the knob-like joints. He felt light-headed staring into space - staring at the things not there - staring at their skeletal cavities and great stone tablets protruding.. no.. being a part of them.. carrying the words.. The words... What did they say?

How long ago had...?

It rained gently, and Vegeta slept.

He came back to consciousness abruptly. Slowly, he managed to get back onto his feet. He felt better now that he was rested. Stretching and yawning, he continued his trek; yet, somehow, it didn't seem quite as impossible as before. The light was faint, as if the sun was either rising or setting, and it cast everything in a blue hue. After a few moments of exercise, he began to feel even better than he had before. It was confusing as to why, because he hadn't eaten in a long while and he'd been pushing himself relentlessly. He supposed it didn't really matter, because now he could continue his little expedition in comfort.

Time passed and the sky changed color, but these were the only apparent change in his surroundings. Eventually, he made out something else on the horizon. It was dark and vast, but did not appear to be very tall. He deduced that it was a forest, which he hoped was the case. Forests generally held animals and animals meant food.

Finally, he made it.

The trees were much bigger up close. The trunks were huge - spanning between five and fifteen feet in diameter. The thing he noticed immediately was how unnaturally quiet it was. The leaves and branches seemed inclined to hardly wave in the wind, and he couldn't help but feel that it was a bit eerie. After awhile, the scenery became dull and he paid more attention to following the trail than anything else. That's why he jumped when someone spoke to him - his heart pounding in his chest.

"Over the river and through the woods to grandmother's house we go. Right?"

Vegeta spun around to find the source of the voice, but no one was standing near the road. Why did they seem familiar?

"Calm down, Vegeta."

The request had the opposite effect on him and he shouted back, "How do you know my name?"

"I thought the answer to that would be pretty obvious," came the male's retort. He added, "I'm up here, by the way."

The prince's gaze searched the limbs and boughs of the gigantic trees, and he immediately spotted an inky blot against the muted earth tones. Indeed, a familiar face did grin down upon him. "Kakarot?" he asked in utter confusion. Why would the younger Saiyan be there? Why was he dressed so oddly?

The other man composed himself and leapt down from his vertical haven. His boots thudded loudly against the hard, flat ground as he landed, and he casually got to his proper height. He grinned widely at the brunette in between a large puff from a cigarette.

Immediately, he knew something was wrong. Kakarot did not dress this way or act this way. Also, there was the fact that he had crash landed and no one knew where he was at, including himself.

"Howdy," the black-haired man breathed smoke as a playful grin spread across his lips. "..partner," he added as an after-thought. He tipped an imaginary cowboy hat and said, "Go ahead and ask."

"What?" Vegeta was going beyond confusion, probably because this went beyond making sense, "Ask what?"

"First answer," Kakarot flicked his cigarette so the extra ash fell off, "is ask the questions you want to ask. You better ask them now, because later it won't even matter."

Somehow, the prince refrained from saying 'What?' again and opted to ask, "What are you doing here? Better yet, why are you here?"

"I'm here because you are here," the other man replied as he dug inside of his inner coat pocket. He extracted a pack of some generic brand of cigarettes, lightly tapped the box on the palm of his hand, and extracted one cancer stick.

Brightening up a little, Vegeta took this in a good stride, "You're here to take me back?" It was degrading to be rescued, but it was better than staying on this dump for who knows how long and attempting to fix or make the parts for his Capsule in order to make it operational once more.

Kakarot lit the new cig with the old one. He brushed his bangs away from his face and responded very briefly, "Nope."

Vegeta's eyebrows furrowed in surmounting confusion, "What are you playing at?"

"Not playing," his fellow Saiyan replied with a grim smile, "Wish I was. See, I can't Instant Transmission out of here."

With his concern growing along with his apprehension, the brunette inquired, "Why not?"

"You don't want me to," Kakarot replied with a casual puff.

Vegeta stopped and simply stared at the other man. He couldn't help it; he found himself becoming very, exceedingly angry. How could Kakarot pull this kind of stunt at a time like this? He crash landed on an alien planet with no food, water, or way of communication to any part of any civilization, and Kakarot was trying to say that he didn't want to leave? What kind of bullshit was this?

Sensing the temper flare, the black-haired man gestured for him to calm down, "Don't give me that look. You're the one who's done this."

"Done what?" Vegeta snapped back.

Kakarot spread out his arms and spun around in one big, sweeping wave, "This. All of this. This planet, that road, these trees, me... heck, even those skeleton things with the stones on their backs. That's all you, Vegeta."

He felt ill all over again. Kakarot knew about those.. things? How did he know? How did he know he knew? A sense of dread pitted in his stomach. Very quietly, he inquired, "Why did you tell me that later it won't even matter?"

"Because you won't remember," was Kakarot's prompt and easy-going explanation.

"You can remind me," Vegeta shot back.

Giving a sad smile, Kakarot shook his head, "Negative. I'm here because you're here. I remember because you remember."

"What are you saying?" Vegeta was aghast.

Kakarot told him.

The Prince of Saiyans decided, right then, that he did not have the amount of curse words in his vocabulary to express his feelings. "No," he shook his head, "That can't be. That's impossible."

"You're right. It is," Kakarot tried to console him without much avail, "I'm not Goku, you know. I'm Kakarot."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Vegeta had reached screaming point by this time. Despair and panic were overriding logic and rationality.

Kakarot told him.

"_That_," the price said in dark tones, "is even _more_ impossible."

"It's alright," the younger male took a long drag, "You'll forget about it. You always do." He exhaled, paused, then took another drag before saying, "For now, come with me. You need to rest."

Grudgingly, Vegeta obeyed.

And Kakarot had been right.

The answers evaporated, leaving only the questions behind.


	54. 54:

N:54:owhere

Vegeta awoke to a small sea of concerned faces and harsh light. "Uhn.." he groaned and shielded his eyes from the fluorescent bulbs, "What happened?"

Shelly lightly pressed on his chest to tell him in a not-so-subtle way to remain prone. "Take it easy.." she spoke as gently as her touch, "What do you remember?"

The brunette opened and closed his eyes a few times as they finally began to adjust. Think back, he told himself, What were you doing? The images came slowly, sluggishly, as if they were filtering through a foggy haze in his head. He recalled green. A large palatte of green. It defined itself and formed into familiar shapes. Yes, he had been walking outside. The leaves on the trees and the blades of grass had been such a lush, vivid color of green. The type of green dreams were made of. "I was walking.." he eventually replied. He took another pause to continue processing.

A steep hill that was very open and contained a spectacular view. Rolling hills, a valley teeming with growth and life that was dotted with wildflowers and forests. Rocks - boulders? - jutting out of the ground, covered in moss and perfect for sitting on. A crisp blue sky spanned the horizons and was highlighted with clouds like marshmallow fluff. "..uphill.." he added to his sentence. He had to stop again because he felt - knew - there was more.

The summit. At the top, in the shade of the trees, were stones. Not like the rocks below, but stones carved and engraved with purpose. These were markers made in remembrance - in commemoration? - to.. the dead. Tombstones. It was so obvious as to what they were.

"Then?" the doctor pressed for an answer.

A sharp pain spread through the prince's sinus region and he slapped the tip of his fingers against the side of the bridge of his nose. Abnormal wetness trickled down his right nostril and dripped onto his shirt thereby staining it red. His head was going crazy; it felt as if it was splitting open. Time seemed to stop as he fought against something.. inside his head? He was struggling against himself? No, everything was happening so fast. He was talking. He was, in fact, talking at that moment. He had no idea what he was saying. His mouth was moving and forming the syllables, but he heard nothing. Everything was.. out of focus...

The words.. what were the words..?

Concentrate! he berated himself.

Then he could hear his own voice in his head: "I saw them. They reminded me of me. I thought.. that could've been me. It would've been me. That.. That should've be me. Why did I think that?"

Control! he screamed in determination and desperation, Don't succumb to it!

"It could've been me erased," he said.  
In his head, though, he asked, What is being erased?  
"It would've been me, if it wasn't for Kakarot," Vegeta explained.  
On the inside, he wondered, What did Kakarot do?  
His head was pounding and pulsing, and the blood flow increased with the effort he gave.  
"It should've been me," he heard himself say, "because of what I am."

The pain abruptly vanished, leaving behind a feeling of light-headedness. With a regained ability over his motor functions, the brunette could question aloud, "What am I?" No answer resounded through him. Where memories should've been to aid in his inquiry, there was only a void. What had filled that void before? Who had he been before.. before he'd been _nowhere_? His inquisitive eyes roamed until he met Goku's gaze.

With a forced smile, the other Saiyan said, "You're Vegeta."

He felt more sad than frustrated. What kind of vague, asinine response was that? After just experiencing something so bizarre, how could he possibly be placated with an affirmation of his name? There was a negative aspect to it too. Perhaps it wasn't viewed important for him to know. Maybe he wasn't supposed to know. His head hurt, and for the first time in moments he realized something was annoying his nose. He rubbed at the ticklish irritant and smeared his hand with his own blood. He stared at it in shock, but it wore off quickly.

He'd just killed a little bit of himself in an attempt to merely stay conscious. It wasn't a perfect analogy, he knew. It wasn't like he could be could be divided into parts. No, his body could, but this wasn't something physical. It was more like it was killing him to merely stay normal. It was killing him to not succumb to.. whatever was wrong with his head.

I've survived worse, he thought.  
Yet he had no idea why he thought that.


	55. fifth part of fifty

**fifth part of fifty** -- **Nowhere**

A truthful lie.

Dreams of breezes like daggers on his skin. With each gust they bit any area exposed with the promise of pain. It was dark, but shapes began to form. Waves and blotches filled his vision. Sickly blue and brown muted the light like an assailant gags his or her victim. Consuming grey - a stone desert - was his location. His blistered and swollen feet trudged heavily in the sand. Each agonizing step felt as if he was tredding on a bed of thorns. Yet, he could not afford to rest. His footsteps followed the marks left by previous travelers and his hopes were to meet them.

Days and nights melded together, all shades of charcoal and tar. There was only pain, his breath, and the taunting remains of people. Humidity began to stink the air with a sulfurous scent, and the clouds swelled and bulged till twilight reigned indefinitely. Scenery subtly changed and rotting trees dotted the arid land.

Then, when a gentle hush could be heard consuming the distant horizon, he stumbled upon them. Suddenly apprehensive, he ducked behind a skeletal bush and knelt. There were three of them and it looked as if they were all carrying large, automatic weapons. The kind that could rip off limbs with bullets and leave your dead body dancing with the amount of rapid fire succession from the molded metal. A low roll of thunder shook his bones and caused him to sink his fingers into the icy grains. He heard their murmured voices talk about things he knew nothing of.

"The last was Arlia."  
Who was Arlia?

"Changes have occurred."  
What changes?

"None sufficient enough."  
Why?

As questions swarmed inside his head, the trio was silent for a moment. The gentle hush from before was now a raging torrent of white noise, and he could see the rain nearly upon them. Then, the three males spoke simultaneously. "Agreed," they said, and then offered no more. The droplets came faster than anticipated. In shock, he stumbled forward into the bush. His body ached from the cold and he became soaked in a matter of seconds. He clenched his teeth and attempted to will himself to ignore the prickly numbness that crept along his skin. His eyes squinted and hindered his vision, but it hardly mattered because it was like trying to see velvet on velvet.

The bush was knocked into fragments by the sweep of a gun barrel. He fell over in surprise then scrambled on hands and knees. A jagged bolt of lighting crossed the sky erratically like a child coloring with crayons. Its light was bright white, unnaturally white, and it transformed the world into chrome, including the weapon that was pointed at him. The thunder that followed almost made him believe he was shot, but, upon coming to his senses, he stumbled to his feet and ran away from what he'd previously been pursuing.

The sand had turned to mud. Every step was a hurdle, especially to keep his footwear. It didn't matter, he eventually lost them a few paces later, but he figured it was better to be shoeless than dead. The lightning spider-webbed across miles, looking as if gossamer fingers were probing the sky. While watching it move, he thought of masks to hide the lack of a face, claustrophobia, and inanimate objects that breathed. He thought of thresholds to nightmares, bell tolls, and suffocating corpses. He didn't know why.

The mud squelched beneath his feet and oozed between his toes like brown slush. The whiteness flickered for a moment, then disappeared. In its place came the consuming rumble that naturally followed. Bathed in blackness, he ran frantically and blindly across the barren wasteland. He lost his footing like one who expects there to be an extra step where there isn't one. He slid and fell onto his stomach. In an instant he was trying desperately to continue forward, but something hard pressed against his skull. Sitting on his knees, he dared not move except to catch his breath.

A flash of lightning revealed two males in front of him. His heart raced upon seeing their figures more closely.

"Why are you running, Vegeta?" the one on his left asked.

"Unless you are guilty," the one on the right said, "Only the guilty have something to fear."

They weren't people. Their builds and skeletal structures were different. They had elongated features and eyes like animals. They resembled people very strongly, and yet they weren't.

"W-what are you?" he hoarsely asked.

They laughed at his question. "What are _you_, Vegeta?" they mocked.

Unable to answer this, he became frustrated and overwhelmed. "Why were you following me and Kakarot?" he shouted in despair.

"For the same reason you followed us," they responded in unison. For a moment, they let the rain wash away the mud upon his form. For a moment, they let him wallow in the emptiness and loneliness. For a moment, they waited for the appropriate time. It came in a slow, haphazard return stroke that illuminated them. In this brief window, they reached up and pulled at their faces. Eyes widening in horror, he watched them peel the skin off with ease. Beneath lay ebony eyes and cruel smirks.

Their voices were one, dark and silky. "Without true regret there shall be no peace."

Vegeta knew of the tears on his face, and then he knew nothing more.

Another memory lost.


	56. 56

This chapter has some minor formatting not supported by fanfiction dot net.  
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Deep blue splotched with ivory - soft, warm, and fragrant - weightlessness and bliss.

An inner fire burned with joy as he soared - golden and bright, but fragile.

And then...

Smoke.

It was thin and whispy, curling, dancing, and dying as it rose higher. Its smell was soothing, but slightly off. He could hear the wind blowing outside, but otherwise it was as still as a church. He could hear the intake of air and the burn of a cigarette. The covers were warm and gave the illusion of safety.

Rolling onto his side, he spoke up, "Kakarot, you're going to burn us down." The weight on the bed shifted, and the silence only brought him fully conscious. He was on a bed instead of a mattress on the floor. The room and clean, tidy, and dull. It screamed guest room at every available chance as it was customized with items, but had no feeling of personalization or liveliness. He resumed his former position and watched the blue-haired women put out her cig. The full extent of the situation sank in as well as embarrassment.

"How're you feeling this morning, Vegeta?" she asked unemotionally, as if she was reading the daily horoscope from the local paper.

Sitting up, he looked at the back of her head - at her short, meticulous locks. She wasn't facing him, as her gaze often adverted his for reasons unknown to him. "Pretty good," he answered honestly, as the europhia of his dream washed over his senses again. He closed his eyes to savor the rare beauty, as it would assuredly fade with time.

She turned to face him, her blue eyes intense, as if attempting to communicate on a deeper level.

"Good," she said.

---  
Nowhere 56  
---

It was the season of rebirth, allergies, and cleaning. Thus, the Briefs family had begun their annual attic maintenance. Items were dragged out of boxes, categorized, organized, reorganized, thrown out, retrieved from the trash, and then thrown out again - or put back where they were found - depending on the case. This year had gone particularly well because they managed to get farther than three feet into the attic.

As Bunni went to grab another box, one in particular caught her eye, and the reason being was due to the fact it was unmarked. Curiosity came over her, so she chose it and brought it down for the family to inspect. Her husband and daughter, still sorting through the remnants of other family treasures, glanced at her as she entered the room.

The blond carefully set the box down, and opened it. Papers and miscellaneous trinkets were scattered inside. Lifting a page at random, a blue crayon drawing of a stick figure greeted her. "Bulma, honey?" she called out, "Is this yours?" She held up the page so her daughter could identify it.

"Oh my god," Bulma dropped what she was carrying. The artist had labeled the character "Kakarot." Instantly, she was next to her mother, looking at the crude picture intently, "This is Vegeta's." In his stay with Ms. Hershmire, he had encountered several situations which called for the use of his creativity and imagination; however, he had never shown her the results. Arriving with his box on her doorstep, he explained what the contents were and then he had successfully hid it in the monstrous menagerie within the attic. Overwhelmed with emotion, Bulma began to examine his art until she found a stack of papers full of handwriting. It was a story.

For a moment, all she could do was stare at the chicken-scratch before indulging herself. She would have never dreamt that her Vegeta could write any type of fiction. She had no idea what to expect. It started off simply, and was written simply, and when she finished reading she wasn't sure how she felt about it.

---

Once upon a time there was a bird. Not just a bird, but a vulture with chameleon plumage. His name was Timothy, and he lived by himself at the top of a willow tree at the top of a gorge. He needed his special feathers because he was a rare bird, and all the people and all the animals wanted to kill him and display him as a trophy.

He was revered and feared because Timothy ate the dead and never got sick. To help ward off his numerous enemies, Timothy collected the bones of the deceased and decorated his home with them. He had collected many bones over the years and had woven them into the branches so often that the tree was as much living as it was dead. He liked it because in the soft breezes, the bones chimed peaceful tunes that comforted him.

One day, Timothy decided to fly past the gorge, the town, and the river, all the way to the ruins of the elder behemoths. It was a long flight, and very tiring, but being there was like being in his own personal zen garden. He walked across gargantuan stone blocks, but came to an abrupt halt as he heard a noise. Alarmed, Timothy cowered and let his wings cover him as his feathers faded into a worn-grey that flawlessly matched his surroundings. A raven came around the corner and chuckled. "I can smell you," he said with laughter in his voice.

Afraid, the vulture tip-toed to another area, his feathers effectively hiding him. Yet, as soon as he thought he was safe--

"Boo!" the raven cried as he jumped out. He hopped around erratically, which Timothy soon decided was actually an attempt at dancing. "Haha!" the raven laughed, "You're so much fun to play with!" Timothy had never played with anyone else because he had no friends. "My name is Clarence," the black bird introduced himself, "What's your name?"

"Timothy," Timothy answered, and he let himself become visible. He expected Clarence to recognize him for what he was, but he just kept hopping around ecstatically.

"Let's play a game!" Clarence suggested, and they did for many hours and had a great deal of fun. The next day, Timothy flew back to the ruins of the elder behemoths and Clarence was there again. So they played more games and had an even greater deal of fun. Day after day, the two friends would meet and have all sorts of adventures together.

Then, the monsoon was due to come. "Why don't you stay with me?" Timothy suggested, "It is safe and warm at my nest." Clarence agreed that this sounded like a splendid idea. The two birds flew to the great willow tree at the top of the gorge.

However, Timothy had been wrong; it was not safe and warm. The willow tree, betrayed by Timothy's happiness, devoured the unsuspecting friends in a fit of anger and pain. Consumed with grief as he was dying, the vulture cried out, "Why?"

---

There was a half page of blank space. Was this the end of the story, or had Vegeta only gotten this far?

Idly, Bulma flipped the page over, and she was surprised to see that he had scrawled a single word there.

---

harbinger


	57. fiftyseven

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nowhere/fiftyseven

The ceiling is blue or grey as I stare up at it in confusion. Uncertain of my location or my purpose there, apprehension seeps into me, poisoning me without mercy. Something deep and primal is happening to me, but I'd rather it didn't.

Sitting up, a wave of awareness passes over me, a brush of relief, recognition, as well as unexpected disappointment. My body feels weighed down by my clothing, impossibly so. Why am I clothed in a black trenchcoat? I lift my arms, noticing the weave of the fabric. Such miniscule details offer no aid in answering my questions.

I pull my feet under me, shift my weight, and stand. My head rushes with blood and it pounds in my ears painfully, causing me to lose my balance and stumble. As my vision clears, I become aware of the light. Dimly it illuminates, pathetic and waning from behind me. Turning around carefully, I see the source. A window - boarded up - is there.

My questing hands probe the aged planks, and upon finding a weakness, they exploit it. The wood yields without much difficulty and I drop the object to the side of me. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, and when they do, I wish they hadn't.

Recollection.

Being alone. Finding him alone. Taking him in, protecting him. I love protecting him, because I love protecting people. Not because it makes me feel superior, but because it makes me feel contributory. It's not an obligation; it's merely sideways from normalacy.

He was dark and exotic. While he spoke with undaunted callousness, he was a horrible liar, and his abyssal eyes were like a plethora of broken secrets and tarnished, decaying dreams. We shared the pain of this place.

Shared. Not share. He's left me.

I feel as if I'm suffocating. The room is stuffy and consuming. The shadows crawl and eat all that lies in their path. I mourn for the both of us. He is without his protection, and I no longer feel free. The opportunities he revealed to me dissolve back from whence they came. (Nowhere.) I feel betrayed, but I can't decide if it is justified.

It feels odd this time.  
This time?

Bright light  
burns my eyes. The morning sun is coming through the blinds. The sound of birdsong fills my ears and distantly I'm aware of the clatter of dishes and silverware. A soft, cool breeze wafts through the open window and rolls over my bare torso.

Tears are in my eyes. I feel them lingering, bitterly wanting escape. My mouth opens and it's as if I've resumed breathing even though I haven't stopped. The ceiling is an off-white. And though I don't know why, there is a relief, recognition, and disappointment.

My hands cover my eyes. Trying to hide..

A whisper breaches the air. My voice is speaking. Drawn out and barely there.

"Kakarot..."

My name.

---

The view was magnificent. Across the horizon, angry storms brewwed fantastic webs of lightening. The distance was so incredible that he could hear no thunder. Closer, the city spanned below him, a singular object of architecture from this perch. The ancient buildings stood forlornly, and yet, appeared so resiliant at the same time.

Peaceful.

His face was bathed in a hardly existant orange glow. The transformation of a cigarette to ash. Gusts of wind played with his hair and clothing. Though cool and humid, it also felt relaxing. Taking another drag, it nearly demonlished the remainder of his cancer stick. He let it dangle precariously from his lips as his thoughts were focused elsewhere.

Tumbling, rolling, controlling, abrasive...

..He hates me.. "Impudent bastard! You dare betray  
me?"  
..He left me.. "You're mistaken if you  
believe I would ever help _you_."  
..He doesn't trust me.. "Do I  
have your word?"

The sky is blue and cloudless. The sun  
beats upon the barren land relentlessly,  
as if it enjoys the torment in which  
it brings. 'Body aches, bone deep, for  
a moment my head spins. It's nauseating,  
but it passes and I feel my trenchcoat  
flutter in the wind beneath my feet. It  
sweeps up, buffeting my gi and hair.  
A trembling hand is what stands between  
me and oblivion. _Then,  
he is here._ (NO--  
GONE)I'm lifted gracefully, but pain impedes  
me; my hand is frozen in position, as if  
rigor mortis has set in. He smirks and says  
nothing. Dressed in navy and white, then  
black and back. His mouth opens and he  
speaks, but it's as if his voice has  
transcended into something impossible to  
decipher and my brain refuses to try.  
Vegeta.. I know why.  
This is a lie.  
This is a lie.

Lie. He hates me. Fact. .  
Lie. He left me. Fact. .  
Lie. He doesn't trust me. Fact. .

The dull ember of a cigarette stub was swept away to the damp and dank streets below. Increasing winds only increased the danger because of his decision to stay. Just a moment longer, he thought to himself. Atop the highest building, he savored the last calm he felt he would ever have. Detereoration, he mused, was a necessary process towards rejuvination.

He had promises to keep.  
had promises to keep.  
promises to keep.  
promises to  
promises  
_promises_

---

"Goku."

Fading visions of cool metal and stone - lingering dreamily were notions of discord. He tried to breathe steady to calm the sickness.

Though it caused his head to throb, he focused on the voice and the place it had come from. Slowly, he became aware of the dandelion sunlight filtering through the kitchen curtains. His hands touched the grain of wood, and he knew he was sitting at a table.

"Goku, honey, it happened again, didn't it?"

Soft, warm hands touched his face and brought his gaze up to meet the speaker. Gentle fingertips caressed his damp cheeks as he looked into the brown eyes of a woman. A woman he knew. She had been a stranger a moment before. When his mind went hazy with delusions of decay and panic, no one was familiar. These acts happened spontaneously and he didn't know why. He only knew that after each episode it caused an ache to emerge from deep inside, a confusing urge to seek the presence of the only other Saiyan alive. Each time he came back to himself, he felt a disappointment before a pang of lonlieness set in. For now, he realized he was staring at his wife.

"Oh, Goku," she sighed to steady herself, "Just tell me about it and we'll find a way to fix it."

Poor Chi-chi was nearly as delusional as he had become, but her problem was rooted in denial and wishful thinking. He never blamed her for wanting a "normal" or "typical" life, but he had become frustrated with her incessant tendancy to ignore that which she disagreed with. This issue refrained Goku from sharing any details of his so-called hallucinations.

"I'm fine," he breathed. His throat felt tight and dry, like sandpaper crammed into a narrow tube. He was lying horribly, and she studied him silently before brushing her lips across his forehead. He practically felt the seconds tick by, quiet and somehow remorseful. The aching was dull now as her proximity brought comfort. Their silent contemplations were interrupted by Chi-chi's murmur.

"I wish you'd involve me in your life," she whispered, her arms suddenly noticeable around his shoulders. Polished nails wove into his hair, carefully untwining tangles and caressing his scalp. The results of this intimate act brought unexpected consequences - a multitude of emotions and faded half-memories invaded his mind, assaulting his sense of reality.

He felt his heart beat at a quickened pace. He leaned into her bosom, trying desperately to center himself.

Why? Why was this so hard? Why was there _two_ centers? A "place" existed inside where he lived on Earth with Chi-chi and Gohan; where he had saved lives over and over again without question. Yet, there was a "place" of solitude that felt borderline sinister.. where _he_ felt borderline sinister. There was the thrill of training and of participating in the World Martial Arts Tournaments, the joy of raising a baby boy, the lazy relaxation of a warm summer day and a fishing poll in hand..

And there was the  
pain  
of being trapped and abandoned, the  
apathy  
of living in a proverbial wastedump, the  
intrigue  
of exoneration, of frankness, of forbidden ardor.

Why did he find himself drawn to both centers?  
Why would he even consider chosing the path that brought him to tears?  
Why would he want to deteriorate the essence of his personal creed?

Oh god, he realized, This is temptation. This is what it feels like.

He put his arms around his wife.

Give my autonomy, he thought,

Liberate me.


	58. now58here

Fade in. Fade out. Repeat.

_now58here_

The lamp shattered into hundreds of shards as it met with its unintentional target - the wall.

"Fuck!" Kakarot screamed in disbelief, his body hunched and taunt from shock and adrenaline, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Vegeta merely went for the next nearby item to chuck at the younger man. His anger made him sloppy, and the coffee mug missed, spilling its contents of god-knows-what all over the frayed carpeting. "You're fucking crazy!" the prince raged, "A liar! A thief! A sicko pervert!" Kakarot took the insults in good stride, but his cigarette jutted out at an extreme angle due to the horrible frown his lips had formed. This was not the reaction he had expected.

"Get the fuck out!" Vegeta screamed, pointing to the shoddy front door.

"But-"

"GET THE FUCK OUT," the brunette repeated, his eyes blazing, his body trembling from sheer anger. When the other man made no inclination towards the exit, Vegeta motivated him by throwing a bar stool. That certainly got him moving, and, tripping over the junk that was cascaded across the floor, he scrambled out the door, hastily closing it behind him.

Vegeta breathed, standing as if he were rooted to the spot. The nerve of that bastard! How dare he!

As negative ponderings consumed his mind, he heard a soft knock on the door. Glaring, Vegeta envisioned that goofy black-haired menace on the other side, coming back to claim a pack of cancer sticks, or a porno mag, or some item that caused Vegeta equal displeasure when merely thinking about it. He growled, stomping across the room like a child who throws a hissy fit. "KAKAROT," he barked, "JUST GET AWAY FR-" He immediately shut up when the door opened, first because of who it was, then because a fist decided to greet his face.

It knocked him back a few steps, blood pouring from his nose, but it didn't matter because he stood transfixed in horror. Dark eyes grinned maliciously at him. Fear overrode anger, and Vegeta was backing himself across the room. "What the.." he mumbled, trying to breathe and not panic, "Who are you?" That face smirked at him. Terrible silence. Too quiet.

Vegeta tried to run.

He didn't make it past the couch.

Arms and legs everywhere.

Fighting.

Struggling.

Trapped.

Knees painfully jabbed his biceps, a heavy weight on his chest, hands covering his face...

Thumbs. Eyes.  
NONONO-  
Pain.

Words not even spoken, but like a whisper in his ear. Like a taunt carried by the wind. Like fog choking him.  
WHY DO YOU CRY, VEGETA? YOU ARE ALREADY BLIND.

Laughter. The wrong kind.

Fade in. Fade out. Repeat.

Vegeta woke up to a beautiful, spring day. The sun was warm on his skin, the sky a perfect blue, the smell of cut grass in the air with the lingering scent of other flora and fauna, but it didn't make him feel any less empty inside.


	59. FIFTYNINE

FIFTYNINE  
(Nowhere)

The seasons bled into one another. Time passed in bursts of activity and sporadic shifts of emotion. (Fanciful words for routine.) While the Prince of Saiyans savored his independence, he was unable to shield himself from pangs of uncertainty and anxiety - especially from Bulma Briefs. A kind woman, but enigmatic. Always polite, always offering whatever he would need whether assistance or otherwise, and nigh always smoking.

He would try to deceive her, and fail miserably. He wasn't sure if this was due to his incompetence or her brilliance, as both scenarios seemed likely. Perhaps a bit of both, he'd muse. Every once in a great while he "got away" from her subtle remarks and inquisitive eyes, however, he also felt that this only happened with her permission. Sometimes, he felt like he knew her, really _knew_ her. But it would pass, like with all things.

Sometimes though, and more disconcerting, he felt like she _knew_ him.

The way she looked at him this afternoon was with one of those casual, piercing looks. She was tinkering with some mechanical object at the kitchen table. Parts and tools were skewed everywhere. Her cigarette dangled, burning itself into oblivion - there as a commodity rather than for use. The soft clang of metal on metal was peaceful, therapeutic to her. When he entered the room, her blue eyes glanced at him. That glance spoke volumes, yet she merely asked, "Hey, Vegeta. What's up?"

Suddenly nervous, he chose to delve through the fridge, pretending to search for a snack when he really was hiding from her beautiful face. "Okay," he mumbled toward the food. She made a noise of acknowledgement, light and easy. Feigning disinterest because it was anything but.

He couldn't avoid her forever, otherwise the food would spoil, so he chose a muffin and stood at the counter to eat it. It was agonizing, waiting for more. He knew she was going to say something, but he didn't know when. Each passing second was a torturous exploit of a guessing game. It was a relief when she finally decided to speak.

"Hm. It's been awhile since we've seen Kakarot," Bulma stated, letting the implications carry her train of thought. He didn't know if she wanted agreement, disagreement, a comment, or an answer. He stood like a statue instead. Again, her eyes shifted to him for just the briefest of moments before returning to her work. "He's coming over today," she tried not to smirk, and managed to accomplish this task.

Vegeta nearly choked on the remnants of his muffin. Coughing, he asked, "When?"

Bulma dramatically checked her watch before replying, "Oh, in about an hour." It was amazing how profoundly these simple words effected him. His gloomy features transcended into pleasure and content. She loved the way he smiled like this. Before he disappeared into space, she could have counted how many times she'd seen him smile. On one hand.

But.. on the same token, she felt an odd swirl of jealousy and envy creep around her heart because she was not the source of his delight.

Besides looking happy, he also looked as if he didn't know what to do with himself. Helping him out, she nonchalantly injected, "When was the last time you've taken a shower?" With these words, he was off like a rocket - as enthusiastic as a child on Christmas Eve. His display was amusing as it was painful, because despite her best efforts, Bulma couldn't help but detest the situation.

She was unfortunately aware of how her heart had filled with blackness. She was consumed with Vegeta.

Just like Goku.

Except her obsession.. her obsession was the lie. Goku's lie. The lie that plagued her day to day. Every moment she spent with Vegeta, hoping it would be the next moment he'd come back to himself, she fumed at the thought of her ignorance. Every day that passed as she waited for the real Prince of Saiyans to come down the stairs, she pined in bitter silence.

She idly toyed with her contraption as she mutely mourned the transgressions against her.

Why did he have to go off into space to train? Wasn't Earth good enough? Wasn't she good enough..?

She switched tools out and began working ferociously.

Why did he have to be so damn hung up over Goku? If he hadn't of been so determined to supersede the other man...

"Hindsight's twenty-twenty," she growled to herself.

..So when Vegeta hadn't been back when he said he would, she waited. Then she waited a little longer. Then, she went to Goku. And he brought Vegeta back, if you called that man Vegeta. 'That dark-haired man who recognized only his rescuer, who had no pride, no honor, no definite flair or hint of his former personality. Sure, he acted normal -- when he wasn't speaking in tongues, crying hysterically, or ogling - fawning over any attention Goku gave him. And then there was Goku. Kakarot. That fucking savior who stood between Bulma Briefs and Vegeta. His intentions were completely unknown. What was he hiding that had turned him from ignoring his sworn enemy for three years to suddenly becoming his personal bodyguard? She knew he was being deceptively innocent. She knew he was lying. She wanted to know his secret and she wanted to know it badly.

The doorbell rang, her hand slipped, and she broke her invention.

"Fuck!" she barked out, abandoning her project to wipe the tears away from her face.


	60. sixty

**six**_ty_

The blackness of his iris seemed enhanced by the fading light of the sun. It streamed in through the windows carving soft shadows due to the blinds. Something had drawn him to this room, but the mirror hanging above the dresser seemed to be the only unique object presented. He examined his features in a bewildered type of awe. The fact that his own face was recognizable one moment and then not the next was darkly fascinating. Like his name, repetition only seemed to accentuate the hidden foreignty of himself. Instead of feeling despair from this conundrum, he rather felt calm. After a few more moments he turned from his reflection to the dresser. He supposed he was curious because he opened it and peered inside. He wasn't sure what he had expected, since this room had never been in use, at least since he arrived at Capsule Corporation, but he felt vaguely surprised and yet absolutely nonplussed that clothing resided within.

Multiple pairs of socks and a variety of men's underwear filled the inside. Like a child would, he dug through to see if anything forbidden lay hidden. Nudging the tidily arranged clothing aside, he reached toward the left corner and brushed against something hard. It was small and he couldn't discern the shape. Removing it, he held the item in his hands, examining it fully. It was a broken disc made of a silvery metal and of a blue stone he could not identify. It looked as if it had been dropped or carelessly put under pressure because it was fractured in several places and chipped in a few others. The spherical ornament appeared to have had a clasp at one time, but it was mangled now and unable to let a chain pass through. The blue was a soothing color and reminded him of the sky outside. He liked the object, but respectfully decided to put it back. This was when he saw something else of interest.

It was a small container, also metallic, almost like a tiny box. "A credit card carrier?" he thought, as this was the closest comparison his brain could conjure. However, when he slid the compartment open, he wasn't greeted by plastic, but rather cloth. It was torn, frayed, and smeared with dirt. Carefully, he unfolded it to find an oval design on an orange backdrop. He didn't recognize it, but it somehow felt familiar, as if he had heard of such an emblem. He replaced everything as it were and then moved to the other drawers. Plenty of neatly folded clothing inhabited the space, but no more treasures made themselves known. He checked the closet and only found what he assumed to be protective gear perhaps for motorcycling or maybe for something else.

Who were all these clothes for? It was obviously for a male, but no one else was living at Capsule Corporation. It seemed strange, especially because of the trinkets - those were definitely personal belongings.

Shrugging it off, he sat on the bed to think. The twilight that crept into the room soothed his heavy heart and cleared his mind of discomfort. He relaxed, collapsing onto this back and closing his eyes, thinking only to lie there a moment. The moment stretched, becoming longer and longer and as it did he breaths deepened till consciousness began to escape him. There was one idea that echoed through him before he succumbed to rest: "There's nothing wrong with coming from another planet. It's actually normal."

---

His eyes opened to the familiar ivory ceiling that adorned Capsule Corporation. Hands wiped away the vestiges of sleep around eyes, and he sat up to examine his surroundings. Oh, yeah, he thought as his memory came back to him. Lethargic, he eventually pulled himself into a sitting position, and then he managed to convince himself that if he wanted to rid himself of his thirst that he should go to the bathroom. His limbs felt heavy, but it wasn't an uncomfortable sensation. Flipping the simple switch, light flooded into the ornate bathroom. Browns and golds glistened and gleamed and cooperated together to make an aura of earthy comfort. He spun a knob on the right, turning on the cold water. It spout from the faucet as a light rain. He cupped his hands and leaned over the sink when something in the mirror made him pause. At first, it wasn't obvious, but when he yanked his collar down he confirmed it. A moment later his black shirt was a mere crumpled heap on the tiled floor.

There were scars on his chest - various sizes, shapes and shades. Why he had never noted them before was baffling, yet they did not seem alien. His fingertip gently traced a line of raised flesh on his chest. The result was immediate and shocking.

The faded wound _reopened_. Blood began to well across the vicious split and a searing pain struck him - swift and terrifying. He gasped and clung to the counter top as he began to fall. He felt the warm blood trickle down his torso and he raised his gaze from the injury to the mirror. For a second, the bathroom disappeared.

There was-  
a turbulent sky of indigo thunderstorms and hot lightning edged with a tint of amber. Suddenly, his scouter screeched to life and he turned, but not nearly quick enough as a hot blade of ki penetrated his armor and gouged into his skin.

Then-  
he was staring at his reflection's sickly face that was balmy and perspiring. His hue was not even near normalcy and as he stood - barely. With a mounting sensation of disbelief and horror he realized that the other scars were following their predecessor. His voice choked in his throat as he tried to call for help, but it gurgled wetly as if it were forcefully obstructed. Each scar made Vegeta's head reel in agonizing pain as they showed him their birth - their history. His history.

Blood dripped into the white sink, making Rochester blots of a single, ultimate truth.

A secret between one is only overcome by a secret between none.


	61. 61

61

He woke to a darkened room and opened the blinds. The early morning sun bathed his face in a slightly golden hue. He took a moment to himself before beginning his routine. A short, thorough shower, brushing of the teeth and change of attire.

The house was pleasantly quiet and the sound of his footsteps was the only intrusion he experienced till the soft tinkle of silverware floated up from the kitchen. He omitted the idea of breakfast - choosing to postpone the meal until he deemed it necessary. He had more important tasks at the moment. The pressing desire was to feel taunt muscles and hear the satisfying crunch of metal. He leisurely stepped down the staircase and padded across the hallway where he stopped at a particular door. He pressed a series of buttons on a pad on the wall, the combination allowing him entrance to an unexpected and unwelcome surprise. After standing still for a moment, he abruptly turned and began crossing the house.

---

"What do you think you're doing?" Vegeta's voice startles me away from the morning paper. I extract a bagel I had begun to bite in order to respond.

"What?"

His eyes narrow, making his face imperceptivity darker, "You heard me." The tone in his voice makes the article I was reading become lost as I set the newspaper down. I sit back in my chair to look at him, but he closes the distance by leaning forward with his palms on the table.

"I was eating breakfast," I reply, because I don't know what else to say. I feel like his random outbursts shouldn't take me aback, but they do. They always do. His hands tense and threaten to become fists while he inhales sharply. His face contorts as he moves closer, bearing down on me uncomfortably.

Then, he demands something I had prayed for, yet had never expected, "Where is my capsule?"

A million thoughts seem to race through my head, and suddenly it's too warm in the kitchen and my heart is beating a little too fast. My expression obviously displeases him as he repeats himself louder and slower than before - as if I couldn't comprehend the words, "Where.. is.. my.. capsule?"

I try to speak calmly and clearly more for my sake than his, "Vegeta.. you've been in an accident." The scrunch of his eyebrows expresses disbelief, so I continue, "Two years ago, you went to train in space, but something went wrong. Goku had to find you. You've had amnesia." He nods as each detail is revealed, but he does not respond. "We didn't know when you would get better," I say, "if ever.."

Vegeta shifts in the chair, leans in once more, and looks me straight in the eyes. "You are so full of shit," he declares, not once breaking his gaze, "Now, stop playing your little game."

It is sheer will that prevents me from breaking down.

There is only one thing I can think of that could prove this to him.

He left during the summer.

"Go outside," I tell him, pointing to the backdoor. Grudgingly, he arises and obeys because I know how much he detests commands. His curiosity will often negate this effect, as it does now.

A breath of cold air sweeps through the room the instant he pulls the door open. He stands on the step, letting each exhale become a puff of fog. Worry lances me as he does not more nor make a sound. The strength to stand suddenly finds me and I resist the urge to rush to his side. When I am next to him, I place a hand on his shoulder, but he responds in a manner scathing and callous.

"Do not," his threat rumbles the words like they themselves were disgusting, "touch me."

Fearing for the worst, I retreat.

He resumes the silence.

Each second agonizingly ticks to the next.

Still, nothing.

The room becomes cold and I start to shiver.

Still, waiting.

I do not move despite the discomfort.

His hand slowly lifts and rests on the door frame. His voice arises, softly, yet so clearing in this moment. "And the androids?" he asks.

As I answer him I realize how dry my mouth is, "Already come and gone." The miniscule alteration in his body posture reveals to me that this reply disappoints him. He reaches out and closes the door, only turning to face me when it is securely latched.

"He did it, didn't he?"

He's referring to Goku besting the androids: what he assumes has happened.

I can't lie to him, "You helped."

"'Helped'?" the word is bitter and edged with skepticism.

"Goku would have died if you hadn't intervened," I explain.

This causes quit a change in expression. I can't even read his face it's riddled with such varying emotion. Maybe this is too much for him. Lord knows it's too much for me.

"How did they die?" his inquiry sounds sad - as if our triumph was actually a tragedy.

How indeed. Anytime I had asked the topic was suddenly switched.

"I heard you destroyed Android Seventeen, and the others surrendered," I tell him what I know, and I hate to think it's not the truth.

His gaze shifts towards the window before coming back to me, "He let them go. The fool. When will he learn?" It's rhetorical because he turns away from me. His walk is different than his usual stride. I watch him go before returning to the table.

I put my head down and let myself cry.  
I feel that I've just hurt the man I love.


	62. owtytxis

**owtytxis**

I know I'm dreaming, but that doesn't make it any easier. The mere existence of this visual representation of an idea causes me to break into a cold sweat.

I'm dreaming of sun-bleached blue eyes and of nightmares that a young girl brought on and rudely decided to not remove.

I'm dreaming of a life that isn't mine, but what I imagined it would be. Yet, it's not exactly what I expect, or rather, it is.

Chi-chi is sobbing in the corner with Bulma holding her in her arms. She's crying about the accident and how much it hurts, but we all know better. That she didn't fall down a set of stairs or trip and bump into any object or any other excuse she's developed over time. Bulma softly pets her hair while murmuring reassuring words while her eyes bore into me, telling me I'm horrible for allowing this to happen.

I try to will away this overwhelming sense of betrayal and shame as neither are unwarranted. Well, I suppose that depends on your perception.

With selfish agony I turn to leave the room, but my attempt to flee causes the room to slide out from under me. The walls bulge and smear, tangling with the floor and ceiling until they all streeeeetch. It's not like a rubber band, but more like taffy candy. It's not a threat of snap-back that fills me with dread, rather the impending break.

It's like someone pulling off a monster mask only to reveal another monster underneath.

New colors replace the cool indoors. A sweltering sun glares on rock formations that jut up out of the shadows, eventually replacing the distant image of Chi-chi and Bulma. Amongst the sharp gusts of dust-ridden wind, I feel a gaze penetrating into the depths of me.

This is the monster underneath.

It's him, of course.

Smirking in triumph while his eyes say a million things.

A Saiyan like me.

The promise of blood and carnage.  
How could I not see it sooner?  
Was this the first time I truly recognized desperation?  
Each subsequent punch, each kick, each searing ki blast riddled my emotions with a ghostly image of my attacker.  
(Was I a door or a window?)  
How dangerous, upon reflection, to leave the most important part of me vulnerable in assumption that it was safe.

He was pouring pain. Each drop of blood was like another tear. How could he not see it himself? How could it possibly take me so long? It was so obvious.

Sending me through another cliff, I feel my stamina wavering. His punishing hands are slowly crumbling my constitution.

He means to kill me. That intent is very clear. Yet another purpose lurks - a haze that flickers in and out, like a pulse being smothered. I crave to satisfy it. The reason is so simple.

Like echoes.

He's a Saiyan like me.  
And I hear myself surrender. I hear the will alter in my voice. This failure is a pathway to horrible things. Great things. I suppose it depends on your perception.

I'm dreaming of a life that isn't mine, but what I imagined it would be. Yet, it's not exactly what I expect, or rather, it is.

The taste of sin on my tongue.


	63. 63

#63

He knew something had happened to Vegeta before Bulma had even called.

It wasn't just the dream, but a sensation that had arisen in the back of his mind, like an itch.

All during breakfast he tapped his foot, trying to alleviate the nervous energy pent up inside. He only ate three plates of pancakes before he declared himself finished - something his wife naturally noticed with concern. Immediately, he dismissed himself to the outdoors where he took it upon himself to chop up some of the excess wood lying around. However, the monotony merely amplified his anxiety, so he retired elsewhere in hopes for a distraction. For a little while he stood and watched his son rigorously toil away at a book until he grew tired of standing. So it became to be that he stared at the blank ceiling from on the bed while listening to the soft sounds of lead on paper and pages turning.

Only after gazing at nothing for so long did he realize what was lacing his brain. A darkness was tainting his thoughts. It was unlike the one he'd experienced when he delved inside of Vegeta in order to save the man. That darkness had been terror incarnate - slowly crushing hope, eating away at defenses and whittling down that which one desired to protect. This darkness, however, was morbid. It was so dense it almost seemed tangible, and, it was dangerous. If stress compounded itself into a color and then murdered all the other colors in existence the result would be the darkness that was currently invading the Saiyan.

He turned his thoughts to the dream, feeling exceedingly torn in this regard. Torn again in opposing directions. In an attempt to stave it off, Goku looked at his son. Instead of an ebb, the darkness THROBBED like the heartbeat of a monstrous creature.

It was an illusion, he knew. A bit of misdirection here so that he'd fail to see the larger picture. Yet, it was a painful distraction because he was aware of this.

Then, the phone rang. Goku sat up, urgency humming through him, but with gritted teeth he held himself steadfast.

It rang several times, each one proving the strength of his conviction.

Finally, Chi-chi picked up the receiver and chatted briefly. The darkness hid itself in the shadows of his heart while this transpired.

"Goku?" he heard her call out, "Goku, are you here?" In an instant he was traveling towards the sound of her voice, albeit in a casual stride that betrayed his inner turmoil. "Oh, there you are," his wife said as he came into the room, "The phone's for you." The device was extended towards him.

He glanced into her eyes for a second before taking the item and answering, "Hello?"

"Hey, Goku. It's Bulma," the other end of the line responded. She took a breath and paced her next words, "I thought you should know that Vegeta's back to normal. He just came downstairs and asked about his capsule. He knows he's been out of the loop for two years, but I don't think he's taking it too well. If you wanted to come by and fill him in on what he's missed I think that'd be.. that'd be good. He listens to you..." There was dead air. "Goku?" Bulma's tone came across with a hint of worry, "Are you there?"

"Yeah," he replied neutrally, taking a pause to consider which words would be appropriate. He inquired, "When would be a good time?"

"I guess now," the scientist said, "Better to get it done and over with."

"Okay," Goku agreed softly before he carefully replaced the receiver. Thereafter he explained to Chi-chi that he must visit Capsule Corp immediately and that he wasn't sure when he'd be back.

He transmitted himself over, leaving a wall to buffer the two men in an act of courtesy. He had no desire to breach privacy in order to gain expediency, unless safety was called into question. Knocking on the door only emphasized how quiet the hallway had been. After a moment a sweat-drenched Vegeta finally made his appearance.

An agonizing second ticked by where neither said a word.

"What do _you_ want?" Vegeta gruffly demanded, his eyes narrowing and brows furrowing in displeasure. He folded his arms.

Suddenly uncertain, the younger man averted the brunette's piercing gaze, "I think we should talk."

A sarcastic smirk graced Vegeta's features, "Come to thank me personally?"

"Thank you?" Goku asked, genuinely baffled.

The semi-lighthearted gesture was erased with a typical scowl, "For saving your life."

The black-haired man was taken aback at the recollection, "Oh!.. Uh.. I suppose Bulma told you about that. I never did get to thank you properly." He suddenly found himself able to look at the prince again. With no embellishments, Kakarot said, "Thank you, Vegeta."

"Hmph," the elder acknowledged him, "So, what else did the woman leave out?"

Goku felt compelled to lie and he forced himself to bite his tongue. He opted instead to make an offer, "What do you want to know?"

Vegeta shifted his weight at this, apparently mulling it over. Finally he spoke though there was a strain in his voice, "How did the android die?"

This was a tricky question since Goku could not prove that he was actually deceased. The need to lie and protect the other Saiyan warred with the urge to quench his curiosity. It pained him too greatly, so he quickly opted to say, "I don't know." An answer both true and false. Adding to the credibility, Goku quickly amended, "I wasn't in the best of shape when it happened." Vegeta was not happy with this reply.

"Did your incompetence slip for any moment, or are you completely unaware of the events in my life these past two years?" the prince bitterly jabbed, snatching a nearby towel to dry himself viciously.

"Vegeta.." the younger Saiyan began pathetically.

"You let them go," the brunette interrupted, "Fool. Why didn't you let me destroy them?"

Feeling defensive, Goku shot back, "What you did to Android Seventeen stole all of your strength. It was a miracle they retreated when they did. Be thankful for it - it's why you're alive."

"Yes," the elder sneered, "alive in a world that's advanced two years beyond me." Goku stiffened when he could sense a rage writhing beneath the surface of the other man. "Look at me!" the prince clipped his words while gesturing, "Breaking a sweat after a quarter hour? Unable to activate the gravity? You say I bested an android that had an advantage over you, but this wretched body couldn't withstand a hit from a Saibaman! Are you willing to disclose to me just what sort of 'accident' I endured, or will you cause me to suffer without warrant yet again?"

As Vegeta stood seething, Goku tried to assemble some coherent thought, but the darkness choked at them till he simply gave up. He wanted the truth? So be it.

"I can't say for sure how this happened, I can only tell you what I experienced," Goku began while walking into the capsule. Vegeta shut the door after him. "Bulma called me one day telling me how you'd been gone training for far too long, and she wanted me to find you and make sure you were okay. It was strange at first because I couldn't find your ki. I realized you must've been pretty far away so I kept extending my radius. Well.. needless to say I finally found you, but when I teleported towards your ki I was dumped on a planet first. I quickly found your ki again and transmitted the rest of the way. You were face down in a puddle of water looking like complete shit. Then, I took you back to Earth. That's all I know about the accident itself."

"A puddle?" the brunette snapped, tilting his head marginally to the side, "That is the downfall of the Prince of Saiyans?" Goku could visibly see his muscles tense like a ripple. Abruptly, Vegeta turned away and gripped the door frame. His knuckles turned white and he hunched, as if trying to contain himself. "Do you.. take pleasure.. in destroying my life!?" the older man screamed, about-facing and launching a ki blast that Goku was able to dodge. It veered at an angle and blew a chunk off of the console.

While trying to pretend the attack didn't bother him, Goku retaliated, "Is that what you think? That it's prerogative to find what gives you satisfaction and crush it?"

With gritted teeth, Vegeta tersely spat, "When that's all you do, then yes, that's what I believe."

Suddenly imbued with determination, the younger man strode quickly to the prince and breached his personal space. "Then," he said softly, yet intensely, "dare tell what would make you happy."

For a moment Vegeta stood shaking from rage and his previous exertions. His lips parted to speak, but it took a moment for the words to come, "If I never had to see you again, Kakarot."

Leaning in unbearably close, the other Saiyan whispered, "Then trust me, if just this once."

The prince backed into the wall as another presence filled him. It was disorienting and startling and it caused a panic to surge through him. At first he went to crush the invader till he caught Goku's eyes.

It had happened so quickly that he'd overlooked the obvious - that it was Kakarot rifling through his head. Stranger still was the way the younger performed this task. He avoided memories, even the blatant ones that seemed insurmountable. He completely bypassed that which the prince coveted as private, and it seemed as if he was searching for _nothing_. The fact that all this was being done by Kakarot only made it seem more bizarre. Then he had seen his eyes.

He looked Saiyan.

Vegeta would never admit it, but he was held immobile by awe. How could Goku's precision be anything less than impressive? The effortless non-search proved the younger's superiority again, and when the shock began to wear, the prince came to comprehend this more fully.

"Aahn.." the brunette gasped as Goku threaded beneath his conscious and gently began to retract. For a second, the elder swore the room.. shifted, but he quickly noted that Kakarot's occupation had skewed his entire perception.

And then it was over.

Regaining his senses, Vegeta glared at the black-haired man. "Get out of my sight," he spoke between labored breaths.

And without a word, Goku obliged.


	64. 6 4

6 4

I think that Kakarot must be the opposite of an angel.

Angels guard people and help them in times of dire need. They are a source of comfort, strength, and support. They protect.

Kakarot is nothing like this.

Something of him lingers behind, like a taint. It is as if he was meant for me. To personally ruin me. As if he is an embodiment of Hell sent to make me suffer.

The diametric of a guardian angel.  
A relentless, stalking demon.

Except he has not shown his face since that day, yet he still disrupts me.

It's not simply his resistance or his excellence in power. It's because he invades my dreams, placing doubt in my confidence like a weed. Because he destroys the potency of my resolve. It is as if his lasting impression's purpose is to ruin my life over and over again. These dreams are atypical and uncomfortable.

Maybe his true intention was to turn me against myself. The ultimate conquest. But I refuse to let the bastard best me once again. As the Prince of Saiyans, I refuse to be insulted in such a manner. I must have been close to transformation to cause him to act so rashly. What better way to remove a threat then let it remove itself? I feel as if I loathe him more each time his memory corrupts me.

I yearn to be a Super Saiyan.

I must become one.


	65. 65

This chapter has some formatting not supported by fanfiction dot net.  
To view this part go to this location:  
www . gotyaoi . com / felix / lit / nowhere65 . html  
(Delete spaces and then you have the correct address.)  
Thanks, Chuey.

Nowhere 65

(Where am I?)  
He shifted uncertainly, bunching the sheets around his frame. He was dressed sparsely - a white t-shirt and pale blue boxer shorts. Quickly he took in the room which was simple, yet had a sense of rustic elegance.

He didn't feel as though he was in danger; however, he was still hesitant about exploring. He got up and further examined the room, opening dresser drawers, looking under the bed, and sliding open the closet doors. Deciding it was best to be clothed, he took a set of sweats and a pair of flip-flop sandals.

"Goku?" a female voice called out from another part of the building.

He froze.

(Goku?)  
Silently and swiftly he moved behind the door. He felt light-headed for a moment, and his vision swam.

"Vegeta, you're already dead!" (This is the pride of the Saiyan Prince!)  
Red tainted his vision, bowing and flexing like water. He couldn't move. What was he waiting for?  
(This isn't like him!) "You liar! I ain't buying it!"  
The symbol on the other Saiyan's head was something akin to a confirmation.  
...the light...was blinding...  
... . .-.. .--.  
... . .-.. .--.

... . .-.. .--. -- .

He felt light-headed for a moment, and his vision swam. Then soft footsteps approached the threshold and his body went rigid. "Goku?" again the woman spoke while the handle turned and the door opened.

Kakarot grabbed her fiercely from behind, pinning her arms to her sides while covering her mouth with a hand. Chi-chi yelped and struggled briefly out of mere shock before she bit down on her captor's hand and shouted, enraged, "Goku! What the Hell is wrong with you!?"

A painful resonance shot through the core of him at the word, muting the twinge of his fingers. The Saiyan wanted to silence it, so he growled, "Stop saying that name. I don't know who you're talking about, but you're going to give me some answers otherwise you're going to be in a world of hurt."

Fighting to look over her shoulder, she replied, "How about you stop pretending like nothing's wrong and start clueing me in?"

"What?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"What?" she mocked his response, bristling with indignation, "Ever since you ran off into space you haven't been the same. I don't know what ideas got implanted in your brain while you were gone, but you have to quit pretending to be something you're not. It's not healthy to do this, Goku. You shut yourself away from your family and act like that's an acceptable course of action so long as you get what you want. What's wrong with you? When has the ends ever justified the means with you?"

Surprising her further, he inquired, "Just who exactly am I supposed to be pray tell?"

Wrestling out of his grasp, Chi-chi spun around to face him. She looked positively livid as she yelled, "My husband!"

Kakarot laughed.

Thereafter his cheek stung from a harsh slap. Bitter tears trailed down Chi-chi's cheeks despite her greatest efforts to resist them, "What did he do to you?"

Rubbing the offended area, the black-haired man hissed back, "Who?"

"You know who!" she instantly cried out an angry retort before softly releasing the information. "Vegeta," the name came from her as if it was profanity.

The Saiyan was taken aback. When he spoke again his voice held a strange tone and an atypical infliction, "What do you know about him?"

"Vegeta.. thank you for this."  
It was like being torn apart and reassembled simultaneously.  
He didn't tell anyone, but later he wondered if their sacrifice had been the best avenue. Certainly the safety of the universe was ensured and normality was restored, yet lingering behind was a sense of loss. He dealt with it by ignoring it. This was his tried and true method. If the problem did not remove itself, then he obviously hadn't ignored it hard enough and he'd simply have to try harder.  
_Lose a decade to stay in control._

She stared at him long and hard, making him feel the uncomfortable twinge of scrutiny.

"What do I know about Vegeta?" she finally spoke, repeating the question in a flat, yet somehow emotional tone.

_No hint of fear. No expectations._

"I think he was a mistake."

_No restraints._

Before he realized what he was doing, his hands were wrapped around her lithe neck and his voice was coming out as a gruff shout. "Take it back!" he yelled in fury, repeating himself as if his vocabulary was inhibited, "Take it back! You, take that back!"

She clawed at his hands in desperation.

_Peace._


	66. Sixtysix

"One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

Eleven.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

Fourteen.

Fifteen.

Sixteen.

Seventeen.

Eighteen.

Nineteen.

Twenty.

Twenty-one.

Twenty-two.

Twenty-three.

Twenty-four.

Twenty-five.

Twenty-six.

Twenty-seven.

Twenty-eight.

Twenty-nine.

Thirty.

Thirty-one.

Thirty-two.

Thirty-three.

Thirty-four.

Thirty-five.

Thirty-six.

Thirty-seven.

Thirty-eight.

Thirty-nine.

Forty.

Forty-one.

Forty-two.

Forty-three.

Forty-four.

Forty-five.

Forty-six.

Forty-seven.

Forty-eight.

Forty-nine.

Fifty.

Fifty-one.

Fifty-two.

Fifty-three.

Fifty-four.

Fifty-five.

Fifty-six.

Fifty-seven.

Fifty-eight.

Fifty-nine.

Sixty.

Sixty-one.

Sixty-two.

Sixty-three.

Sixty-four.

Sixty-five.

Sixty-six."

NOISE. MOVEMENT. DEBRIS.

The Prince of Saiyans was startled by the large chunks of metal that exploded around him and imbedded themselves into the floor and walls. A portion of the ceiling sizzled and creaked where it had been forcibly concaved then punctured. He stood, patiently awaiting for the remainder of the section to collapse dangerously inward. Afterward, he climbed outside of the wreckage to find the source of havoc which came in the form of something rather unexpected.

Across the lawn stood a Namek with his arms crossed and bearing an expression Vegeta had never witnessed the other man wear before. The brunette's lips curled back into a snarl at the notion that what occurred was no accident. "Son of a bitch-" the Saiyan started to speak when he was within range.

However, Piccolo interrupted him, "Shut up."

"Excuse me?" the prince raised his voice as well as his fists.

"You damn well heard me," the other alien snapped, his voice darker than normal, "Now that I have your undisputed attention, I want you to shut your mouth and listen for a moment. You-"

Vegeta cut him off, "Or what, Namek?"

Piccolo's lips pressed against themselves, becoming a thin, flat line, and his aura changed with a charge of ki. With obvious restraint, he continued, "You're going to listen to me because this concerns you. This is about Goku, and it's important. Firstly, what did he tell you about your incarceration?"

A portion of the capsule, the shorter man realized, was engulfed in flames, but that simple word had him captured. "Kakarot," he scathingly informed, "is basically ignorant in all matters, especially those that concern me."

"Idiot," Piccolo spat back, "Just because you don't remember the past two years doesn't mean they didn't exist. Goku watched over you the entire time, and he's a bigger fool than you if he didn't tell you what happened to you."

A cross between intrigue and rage came over the prince's features. He had assumed that Goku had lived his life normally since his answers had lacked detail during the interrogation. Now it was apparent that he had not only been present, but he had accompanied him habitually and consciously withheld information in regards to it. Between these two, Vegeta could not tell which was worse at that point. "Incarceration?" he inquired, "I had amnesia, how-"

The Namek interrupted again, "You were a bloody loon. I'm not going to sweeten it up, bend the truth, or hide anything from you. I think that's disrespectful and wrong. No! Listen!" Piccolo demanded as the Saiyan opened his mouth to speak, "I have the decency to not let this shit slide, so have the decency to merely listen. Something happened to you, and you did have something like amnesia, but something else happened to you that was really serious. And it fucked you up real good. You didn't even know who you were half the time. I don't know what happened, no one does. Not even the kais could figure it out, so congratulations on being a major pain-in-the-ass as per usual. But I didn't come here for you. I came here because one of my best friends is falling into the same condition. And now you're going to speak because you're going to tell me what the Hell Goku did to you."

Vegeta took a brief pause to soak in the monologue before sneering, "He didn't do anything. He said for me to trust him and then he left."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

The Namek closed his eyes for a moment. When he open them again, he declared, "Bullshit. I don't buy it."

The prince snagged the elder by the scruff of the neck, pulling him down to eye level, "I don't give a damn if you think I'm lying or not, and, I want you to know that I really don't give a damn about what happens to Kakarot."

In retaliation, Piccolo basically spat in his face with his retort, "Someone would have to be retarded to believe either of those statements. You two made a promise and you intend to uphold it, don't you? If you can't stand to see him die, then surely you won't stand for him to be like this."

Growling venomously, Vegeta replied, "Think again, Namek. He's not my friend. He'd not my ally. He's the man I have to kill. He brought me shame and I will repay that."

Jerking back and pulling out of the brunette's grasp, Piccolo rose to his full height once more, "Oh, would you listen to yourself? What a load of bull! Two years ago, when Goku brought you back from that planet, you were like a stranger, because that's how you saw everyone. Except Goku. You remembered him - at least - an idea of him. You trusted him, even with the amnesia. How horrible is it for you to admit a mistake? That you're a Saiyan, not just a warrior? How hard is it for you to let something so petty go?"

"Fuck you," the prince spoke between clenched teeth, "What would you know about pride?"

"That it makes you act like a goddamn child!" Piccolo shouted, clearly reaching his limit of talking sensibly, "You know what? You deserve the shame you feel. You know why? You're an asshole. You don't just want to fight Goku; you want to kill him, just as you said. You're not even being fair about it, you're just waiting for when it's opportune or convenient for you. Well guess what, chicken shit? You're not going to get it. You know why? Because Goku's going through the same shit you did for those two years. Whatever he did to you put him like this, and he's not going to get better."

Scoffing, Vegeta grit his molars, "Well, that makes it his own damn fault, now doesn't it? I didn't ask for him to do anything-"

"You didn't have to!" Piccolo erupted, not allowing the other to get a word in edge-wise, "You just don't get it, do you? Take some responsibility. You rant and rave about how you're the Prince of Saiyans, but it's no wonder you don't have anyone left. You don't lead, Vegeta; you follow. You let Radditz doom himself when it should've been you here on Earth in the first place. There were four of you left and you didn't have the balls to recruit a third class warrior yourself. Then, when someone didn't meet up to your unfathomable standards, you killed them! Genius. You basically did all of Freiza's work for him. Yet you have the audacity to blame it all on the lizard. These were your own damn mistakes, and you keep redirecting them onto different things. Whatever happened to you two years ago did just that - it happened TO YOU. Not me, not Bulma, not Goku, or anyone else. You. It happened to you alone, and it's beyond immoral for Goku to suffer for your shortcomings."

"I don't think you understand," Vegeta spoke in a deceptively low voice,"I don't even see a reason for me to care."

The taller man closed the gap between them and he leaned down with his fangs showing, "You're going to go see him. Whether you want to or not, you're going to attempt to communicate with him, because if you don't I'm not only going to make sure you never train in peace again, but I'll make sure you can never leave this world."

"You wouldn't-"

"You have no idea what I'm capable of," Piccolo's tone was like silken ice. He glanced past Vegeta and said, "Go put your toy out before the house catches fire. Tomorrow, you better visit Goku, for your sake."

He left the prince's life in shambles.


	67. sixtyseven

sixtyseven

The morning came too soon. Waking once in the early hours, Vegeta found himself unable to return to sleep. He tossed into various positions, something he did not recall doing before. So by the time the first of the rays of light encroached upon his room, he was already waiting.

Grudgingly, he got to his feet and went into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth while glaring at the mirror, then he showered quickly and dried himself in record time. It wasn't that he was eager, rather his haste was fueled by anger. Opening the top left drawer on his dresser, the prince tried to pick something suitable to wear. Pushing aside several items, he unintentionally revealed a small, metallic case. He withdrew it and stepped outside onto his balcony. Leaning on the railing by his elbows, the prince rotated the object in his hands while the sun warmed his nude figure.

He stared at it for several long moments.

An enraged snarl cut through the peaceful morning air as he shouted, "You could never keep your promises! How am I supposed to respect you!? Honor you!?" With a growl he chucked the metal bit as hard as he could, not caring at all where it landed. His head bowed and he threaded his fingers through his hair while inhaling deeply.

What infuriated him was the fact that, even after all this time and after the threat placed upon him the previous day, he wanted to leave.

He stormed back inside, pulled out the drawers and spilt the contents all over the floor. Nothing looked right to him. The piles of clothing just furthered to remind him was little of his past he still held. Trying to gather his breath, he chose to delve into his closet. Staring blankly, he was unable to calm himself and he lashed out again - this time pulling outfits and armor off of hangers in disgust. Partially exasperated, the prince collapsed onto his bed and tried once more to compose himself.

The sun rose a bit more, brightening the room sharply. Vegeta slowly recollected the night's dreams. The silent image of a Super Saiyan. His gut twisted as an idea swept over him.

Once a millennium.

No.

He would not resign himself so easily. Is that not what he had surmised? That these doubts were external and put with the intent to belittle?

Vegeta suddenly found himself on his feet, pulling articles on.

When he was actually on his way to Goku's house, Vegeta felt the entire situation as surreal.  
Two years of his life gone.  
TWO YEARS.  
Instantly.  
Inexplicably.  
Inescapably.  
The obstacles between himself and his goal had only escalated.  
The androids were gone.  
The Namek was stronger.  
He was weaker.  
How did the android die?  
Incomprehensible.  
And now he was flying to the residence of his sworn enemy against his will. All because that bastard had made another stupid decision that Piccolo believed was the prince's fault.

The small, beige home came into view, nestled amongst some trees and looking like something straight out of a magazine ad. Without further delay, he landed on the step, took a few seconds to construct some questions in his head, then he knocked. Shifting his weight back, he waited.

His presence was answered by Chi-chi, who stiffened and grimaced. Fixing her posture and gripping the knob tightly, she asked, "What do you want?"

"I'm here to speak to Kakarot," he said bluntly.

But it wasn't as blunt as the door in his face. In shock, he stared at the wood. Confusion vied with anger as he considered his options. How much humiliation would he have to endure until they were satisfied?

Just as quickly, the door reopened.

"Here," the young woman said, thrusting a piece of paper at him, apparent that his visit disturbed her, "Take it." He was boggled why she was so livid. "You said you wanted to talk to him," she shouted while shoving it into his chest, "so take it!"

Taken aback, he grabbed the offered slip.

Once more, the door was sealed.

Vegeta glared at the threshold before redirecting his attention. Unfolding the note, he read it twice:

48 Madison St.  
#15  
West City

"What?" he said aloud before turning towards the house, "What is this!?" Of course he knew what it _was_; an address is an address. What he failed to grasp was why he had received it. With a growl, he crumpled the paper and jammed it into his pocket. An instant later and he was in the troposphere and, after a few minutes, in the city limits of West City.

After a few futile attempts in locating Madison Street, he opted to ask for directions. He landed at the next establishment he saw. Upon entering, the door banged against the wall and rebounded angrily. "Where is Madison Street?" Vegeta barked out.

The customers in line looked startled from his intrusion, but a lady at the back addressed him, "..You wanna follow this road north 'til it intersects with Creekwood. Turn right and follow it down 'til you see two Mr. Cluck's across from one another. That's your turning point, you'll wanna go left. That's it; you can't miss it."

The instructions were followed immediately. He almost overshot the left turn, but the overwhelming smell of grease helped define the landscape. Madison Street was a long, spliced road that snaked from the suburbs through downtown and out the other side where it became the C-22 highway. The particular section the brunette crossed was a rather quiet portion of four lanes. Before him stood a twelve foot gate that broke the completion of a twelve foot wall. Across the arch was a metal cut out.

48 Madison St.

Passing under the archway, he stopped to stare at the building presented. Stone walls and barred windows with a well-maintained lawn.

After climbing a short flight of stairs and entering, he was greeted by a male in a neutral-colored suit with rust colored hair. "Good afternoon," the man said. Vegeta glanced down at his desk and noticed a name plate which read "Ronald Dartmouth." Ron stood up and extended a hand, "How may I help you today?"

Vegeta did not accept the outstretched appendage, "I'm.. looking f.. to speak to someone."

After an awkward moment the clerk realized no handshake would occur, "Okay. May I have their name, sir?" He sat down and pulled his keyboard closer to himself.

"K--Goku. Goku Son," the prince corrected himself, feeling increasingly more uncomfortable.

"May I inquire your relation to the patient?" Ron asked in a pleasant voice, all the while typing away.

"Patient?" Vegeta thought.

What he found himself saying was, "I, uh.. I'm a friend.. of the family." Saying such a thing left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"I'll need you to fill out this form, please," Ron said while extending a clipboard with a pen attached. As the prince took it, the associate gestured to a seating area to the left.

It was simply contact information. He was passing it back in a matter of seconds.

"Someone will be right with you," the red-head informed.

It was an accurate statement as only a minute later a woman entered the room. He didn't pay her much mind. One thing he did note was that while she slightly overweight, she held herself with confidence. "Sir?" she gestured down the hall, "Right this way." The brunette followed her through a set of metal doors, past an office area, and down another passage. "The door will be unlocked," she informed before opening it for him.

Vegeta froze at the threshold. He thought his eyes must surely be betraying him. The lady gently urged him inside. He barely registered his feet moving forward.

"Kakarot..?" his tone sounded soft and strange, even to his own ears.

The figure inside the room shifted minutely and the mop of black hair that adorned it struggled to rise. The face of his enemy was finally exposed. It was unnaturally pale which only furthered to accentuate the darkness beneath his eyes. He looked like shit. That's why when his expression changed it only served to stun the prince. Not just because Goku was looking at him, but because of the elation he exuded.

"Vegeta!" the younger exclaimed in a hoarse voice. He tried to leap to his feet, but he tripped over himself and landed on his side, crawling pathetically due to his restraints. He stumbled twice more before giving up and walking on his knees. "You.. You're okay," he breathed, looking up at the other Saiyan.

The prince swallowed, unable to conjure words in order to reply.

"I'm sorry," Goku shook his head, "I.. I don't know what I've done." His smile returned, "But you're safe."

After repeating the question several times over in his head, Vegeta eventually vocalized it, "What are you doing here?"

"I can't remember right," the man before him tried to explain, "They said I tried to hurt someone. I think I was trying to protect you."

"I don't need your help," Vegeta automatically spat out in response. Goku flinched at the way it was spoken.

The younger sat back on his heels, murmuring weakly, "Okay."

It took another painstaking moment for the prince to inquire, "Why are you wearing that?"

Goku sat upon the ground hunched over, "I told them to stop lying to me, but they keep calling me that name that hurts. I tried to leave, so they forced me down and stuck me with a needle." In a much more subdued voice, he added, "I don't like needles.."

This went beyond the plausible realm of a practical joke. Piccolo's threat, Chi-chi's anger, and now the melancholy words of Kakarot in a straight jacket merely furthered the point.

No. It couldn't be true.  
Kakarot had everything. Family. Health. Happiness.  
How could he ever be reduced to this?  
He had EVERYTHING.

Vegeta's hands flinched in a motion to create a fist. After a moment's hesitation, he turned to leave. However, Goku's abrupt laughter caused him to face the younger man.

"Would you like to hear a joke?" the sable-hair asked, his eyes meeting the prince's to display an atypical darkness. After a pause Kakarot instructed, "Come closer."

Vegeta complied and stood in front of him.

"Closer.."

He leaned in.

Suddenly, Goku lashed out before the brunette's reflexes could enact. He managed to snag the prince's head by grasping it between his legs. "YES!?" he cried triumphantly while Vegeta looked panicked, "Are you laughing now!?" Kakarot was roughly forced off of the other Saiyan, though it didn't discourage his smug chuckles.

Vegeta backed himself towards the door in a daze. He wasn't sure how he felt anymore, but he knew he had to escape that confining room. He barely acknowledged the nurse as he brushed past her and headed for the front door.

As soon as he was back outside he halted to breathe, yet no matter how many gulps he took, it didn't placate him.

He traveled in a random direction in an attempt to clear his head.

After a few blocks, the urge to distance himself from Goku did not fade. Seeing the younger man in that condition obviously disturbed him, but he chastised himself for this. Their brief conversation replayed in his head over and over as if analyzing it would produce different results. To try to fend it off, he kept walking.

It took a hefty amount of time, but he eventually wound up downtown and in slightly better condition. Instead of the dissecting the day, the brunette could actually tie it all into a much larger picture.

Kakarot wasn't a patient because he had a loving family, perfect health, and daily happiness. Kakarot was a patient because he had more than everything. He had something of Vegeta's. What had the Namek said? Something about the illness being more than amnesia...

Jostling himself through the crowd, he took a set of stairs down into the subway and quickly made his way onto the train. His sudden desire to sit was paramount, as if it would help him to re-center himself.

Two years of his life was gone, this much was true. Caused by what exactly? Was it now the same force that was driving Kakarot to lose his memories? Is that what the fool had done? Reversed the roles? Trust him, he had said. To do what? Break another promise? Ruin his life? Make it a living Hell?

Trying to distract himself, Vegeta observed his surroundings, but he quickly found it mundane.

The prince had kept _his_ promise. He talked to the other Saiyan, though he didn't have much of a choice. What had Piccolo expected of him? To magically remedy the other male's psychosis by conversation alone? It was clear that it was Kakarot's will to take on this sickness, and if knew the consequences of performing such an act, then it made him not only a fool, but a self-sacrificing fool. What a terrible expense to pay to be a hero.

You didn't stay on top if you helped your enemies up. Vegeta had learned long ago to implement a defining line among people - in that they were either with him or against him. It made decisions effortless to make.

The train made several stops as he mentally prepared a training schedule.

After a complete circuit of the city, he figured he should make a decision about the Namek. Kakarot was a non-confrontational figure of power. It was simple to evade him. However, Piccolo was terribly good at getting what he wanted, and if he viewed this visit as substandard, then Vegeta would be forced to submit to his ideals. This notion did not have the prince thrilled, especially since he knew avoiding him would not be easy.

"I'm walkin', yes indeed, and I'm talkin' about you and me, I'm hopin' that you'll come back to me," a casually dressed, black lady across from him broke into song. He was stunned since his expansive ride had yet to be interrupted by music, much less by a live performance. "I'm lonely as I can be, I'm waitin' for your company, I'm hopin' that you'll come back to me," she continued happily, oblivious to stares, glances, and other looks tossed in her direction, "What you gonna do when the well runs dry? You gonna run away and hide. I'm gonna run right by your side. For you pretty baby, I'll even die. I'm walkin', yes indeed, and I'm talkin' about you and me, I'm hopin' that you'll come back to me." A gentlemen a few seats up walked back and tossed a dollar onto the seat next to her, to which she nodded.

She hummed a few bars before repeating the song. The juxtaposition between his inner debate and her peppy display merely amplified the growing dissatisfaction he felt.

It wasn't as if Kakarot actually cared about him. He just did whatever he thought was right so he could sleep at night.

A few stops later, the woman took her leave and he was reclaimed by his own devices.

Why didn't Kakarot tell him about those two years? Why would he try to hide them? It didn't make sense, unless.. unless he knew how much the brunette would take offense to them. 'Unless he wanted to spare him the humiliation.

Oh, god.

Had Kakarot not been pitying him, but rather protecting him?  
What if he had weighed the outcomes and chose the path of rescuing the prince, not for the idolization, but merely to ensure his freedom?  
What if he intended to keep his promises?  
What if Piccolo was right?

Vegeta vacated the passenger car at the next station, and immediately set upon returning to Capsule Corporation. Somehow the daylight was rapidly vanishing, and it was a reminder for him to rest.

As the last tendrils of light crept across the lawn of his residence, the brunette stumbled upon landing. It was then he realized how tired he truly was. Each additional step he took was taxing and loathsome. However, just before he could make it into his room, Bulma's mother called his name. "Oh, Vegeta!" He paused to see her frame fill the bottom of the stairwell a moment later. "Oh good, it is you," the blond beamed in satisfaction while climbing up to him, "Papa cut the lawn today and found this. We thought it might belong to you." She extended a small, metallic case. The prince regarded the item with a strange combination of disgust and relief before taking it into his possession.

"Thank you," he said softly, yet he wasn't sure if he meant it.

That night he didn't bother with his routine. Collapsing onto his bed, Vegeta opened the case and extracted the content.

There was a way to get the truth.  
It hurt to know the cost: his pride.

Was it worth it?

Laughing with exhaustion, Vegeta said aloud, "I cannot escape you.."

In a nightmare, he saw a Super Saiyan. Except this time was different, and Kakarot spoke to him.

"It's going to be all right."

He found himself knowing it was a truth and a lie. How? Why?

He replied, "You don't really know what I expect of you. You don't know why I want you to die."

In response, the other man said, "Neither do you."

Vegeta continued to dream, and he dreamt of horrible things.


	68. recompense psalm

_recompense psalm_

As the hot water cascaded down his body, Vegeta let the tension ease away. For these few moments he would savor himself - to let there be pride in the intimate idea of who he was. It these moments, he willingly set aside his ultimatum, or perhaps it was merely coming to terms with it.

With a deliberate pace he took a washcloth and bathed. Because he purposefully lagged, his routine held no dutiful twinge. Perhaps it was because he was doing it for himself, and not the image of the Prince of Saiyans. After the shower was over, he brushed his teeth leisurely, not counting strokes or time. Then he dressed himself in dark jeans and a green polo. As soon as that task was finished, he cleaned the mess of his room.

It was around noon. He decided to eat.

Bulma's mother was cooking fajitas while Dr. Briefs was reading a newspaper at the table. Vegeta sat across from him. "Good afternoon," he greeted the brunette, "I hope your case wasn't in terrible condition."

"No," the other man replied, "No, it's fine."

"Good, good," the scientist seemed genuinely pleased.

"Are you going to join us for lunch, Vegeta?" Bunni inquired over her shoulder.

"Sure," the prince gave a curt nod. He felt awkward sitting in their kitchen, as if he was a stranger who had let himself in, or an intruder that was invited to stay as a guest. It seemed like some bastardization of the stereotypical orphan story.

The meal was served. Naturally, it was delicious. When he completed it, Vegeta thanked them, put his dishes in the sink, and set off, but not before taking out the trash.

Then he let his distraction become his focus.

The other Saiyan could be sensed now. Not that Vegeta had been specifically looking before, but the alteration made the absence stand out in sharp relief. Goku's ki was muted and strange, however, it was also easy to detect once an introduction was made. Assuredly, it had the exuberance of the younger's spirit, but it was laced with something heavy and anxious. He honed onto it while flying, constantly reevaluating the emission of life force for any fluxuation. When coming to land, he opted to lurk and observe by placing himself on a tree's limb like a sentry. Kakarot was outside on one of the many concrete benches positioned across the lawn.

Goku was normally interactive and outgoing, but here he sat alone with his head bowed, stationed farthest away from the institution. There was a disturbing look to him, as if he was defeated without knowing there was a fight.

Vegeta leapt down and approached the younger man when it appeared safe to do so. The patient did not contain his surprise. "Vegeta!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet immediately. The prince glanced around before stating, "Come with me." To make his order perfectly clear, he grasped the black-haired Saiyan by his sleeve.

"What?" Kakarot asked in confusion, tripping slightly, "Where are we going to go? The wall is easily twice my height and there's no way I can jump that."

The prince spun around with an odd look on his face. After a second of deliberation, the brunette grasped his rival around the waist and pulled Goku's back to his chest. Before there was any protest, the ground was far beneath them and the hospital shrank to a dot.

"Ve.. Veget.." the younger breathed before going limp.

The prince landed at a suitable location and gently set the other man down. He was only out for a few minutes.

"What the.. Hell.." Kakarot said shakily as he came to and sat up. He wearily examined his friend that had defied the laws of physics, "What the Hell are you?" Panic and anger began to set in, "Why did you bring me here? What have you done to Vegeta? I swear, if you harmed him, I'll fucking make you regret it!" He brought himself to his feet, though it was obvious he was still disoriented, "Don't think.. I won't!"

Vegeta stepped forward and slapped him across the face.

Due to his poor stance, Goku fell back to the earth.

"Are you going to talk to me, Kakarot?" the elder's soft voice exuded impatience, "Or are you going to be a coward?" The other Saiyan glared up at him. "It's a simple question," Vegeta further explained, "Because I need to make sure I'm talking to you, Kakarot. I need to know that the man in front of me isn't going to pretend he's not the man who challenged me when I first came to Earth. Do you understand?" A reply was not given. The black-haired man shifted his gaze to the horizon, a petulant expression on his face. "Look at me," Vegeta commanded.

Goku, with a sharp intake of air, finally relented.

"Are you that man?" the prince asked, the hostility leaving his voice. The other glanced aside for a second, obviously uncomfortable due to the scrutiny. The brunette applied a different tactic by releasing one inquisitive word, "..Goku?"

It was like a trigger, and the younger spoke again, "You don't have to call me that. Ever."

"I won't," Vegeta promised, "if you listen to what I have to say. Will you?"

"Of course I will."

There was a sense of relief. Then, the elder began with another narration, "I worked for Frieza for the majority of my life. His business was planets - the purchasing, selling, or trading. He didn't just have the financial means to uphold these transactions - no - what made him so formidable was that he had the physical power to enforce them. I hated him. How I loathed serving him when I knew I should have had soldiers cowering at my feet. The planets that I purged should have been conquests in my name, not his. It was humiliating that our people had been reduced to this. My pride would not allow anything less than glory."

He paused, knelt, and looked into Goku's eyes, "And then I met you. And before you caused my retreat, before we broke each other's bodies, I made you an offer, Kakarot. I had every intention to never make mention of it again. I was content with the idea of pretending I had never uttered it in the first place. Until yesterday. Because yesterday showed me something I thought I had lost. So now, I will make this offer again, but under a different set of terms and conditions. May I continue?"

Goku nodded.

"If you accept this, you must relent," the prince stated.

He clarified, "You know there is something wrong. You know your memory is deteriorating. You must also know that this malady is not yours. It is mine, Kakarot." He raised his hand to stop the younger's protest, "I refuse to hear your arguments in regards to this possession. It is mine in any regard. You have heard my stipulations, Kakarot. Now, I will tell you the offer."

He took a brief moment to allow himself to reconsider.  
To save himself.  
To save his pride.

Vegeta spoke, "Join me."

A hesitation parted the air before he concluded, "I promise in this, that I will not require you to change. We do not have to campaign in the name of our people. We are our people. We do not have to leave Earth. It is your home. Your obligation would be dependency. I need to know that, if I call on you, you will be there. I want you to be more than a memory. ..Will you accept?" He extended his hand palm up.

"Why should I?" the younger stunned him with this simple question. Yet, it was completely legitimate, completely understandable, and completely natural.

There was an edge of pain in Vegeta's voice, "Because you will have my dependency as well."

He granted Kakarot all the time he needed to mull it over.

After what felt like too long, the black-haired man grasped the outstretched hand. He was further surprised as the prince pulled them closer together instead of helping him up. A second later Goku realized why as something brushed against his mind - the odd sensation making him recoil. With his free hand, the brunette grasped his subordinate around the back of the neck, effectively trapping him.

It was over in a few seconds, leaving Goku to come out of a haze and Vegeta resisting to fall into one.

The prince stumbled, crashing into the dirt as he tried to rise too soon. He heard Kakarot say his name, but it sounded and felt like a cascade of resonances. For a moment he watched in horror as the world around him melted into one of shades of rain and thunderous calls for penance. Doubt consumed him, choked him as if it were a pungent stench till he couldn't breathe right and tears involuntarily came to his eyes.

Oh god.. what was THIS?

This was more than he bargained for. As spots began to encroach on his vision, he experienced a fleeting second of lucidity. For just a fraction of a moment Vegeta felt as though he saw the interweaving connection and meaning of the sickness. It was as if this tiny glimpse incubated and bore revelations of its characteristics, function, and purpose. Yet, at the end of the cycle, there came the demise of this vital exposition, and azure manifested itself as a halo around Kakarot's form.

I'm on Earth. I'm on Earth. I'm on Earth, he told himself.  
This is yours, he thought. Your amenability.  
Stand up.

The prince got upon his feet of his own volition, albeit with some difficulty. He lied by saying, "I'm fine." His feet tried in desperation to keep him steady, but his head kept betraying him by swimming over and over again. Warm hands gripped his arm and side firmly, and Vegeta knew he was pressed up against Goku. His bravado was costly as consciousness began to slip away from him.

"You.. you forced me aside... Was I last on your list?.. Was I.. on it at all?" the brunette heard himself ask. He didn't know why he said these things.

Goku spoke.

"My shoulder... and then.. that time? That time..."

The world shifted away and it became dark and still.

"BASTARD!" Vegeta cried out in anger as self-awareness spread through him and his eyes opened. Instead of a sky, there was a ceiling, and in the place of the hard ground he lay on a mattress. The room was familiar. It was his. The prince turned his head sharply and saw a surprised Saiyan sitting in the corner. "What happened?" Vegeta said in question to his outburst.

"You passed out," Goku informed him, "so I thought it'd be best to bring you back here."

The elder pulled himself into a sitting position, "So, you decided to stop pretending?"

The black-haired man's expression flickered through several emotions before he tentatively sat on the edge of the bed and proclaimed, "I can't remember what happened at the sanitarium or why I was there. When you took me, I couldn't recall everything perfectly - it was more of an idea, an instinctual response. But I can tell you now that the man before you is Kakarot. I always was. I wasn't pretending."

"Ha!" Vegeta sneered, his lip curling, "You're a terrible liar. If you're going to spout out shit like that, you might as well spare me and go on home."

Goku was hurt, "Why are you acting like this?"

With venom in his voice the prince asked, "Like what?"

With strain, the black-haired man repeated, "Like.. this..."

If anything, Vegeta's features became more callous, "You keep treating me like the man you watched for two years. I am the man who lost two years. I am the man who came to this planet for vengeance and blood. That man you 'knew' shares one trait with me - the sickness you tried to steal for your demented vision of morality." Goku listened patiently to the entire tirade with his head downcast. "So keep telling me that you weren't pretending," the elder coerced, "It's not going to matter. Keep telling me, and yourself, that you're not using me as a scapegoat. Because tomorrow this may be less than a memory. Tomorrow I may not even know your name." This caused the other Saiyan to meet his eye.

"Then," Kakarot said softly, "let me stay the night so that in the morning I may remind you."

There was a brief second where Vegeta paused as if to second guess his hearing. The offer did not seem light-hearted or insincere. It made the implication that much more stunning. "Go home," the prince demanded, surprised at his own steadiness, "You have a wife. You have a son. Go home."

Goku hesitated before replying, "I may not need anyone, but-"

"But what? But you are not beyond incessant attachment? Or is this pity?" Vegeta spat. With the fading light of the sun he appeared dark, almost sinister. "Perhaps that is your problem, Kakarot," he mused aloud, "You don't know the difference between pity and love. It would explain why you stay on this planet."

The younger man wanted to retaliate, but he found himself choosing to remain defenseless, "If I'm pitying you then I'm sorry, because that wasn't my intention."

"It never is," the brunette hissed, his hands balling into fists, "Your intentions are always good, yet it never fails that every time we converse I remember why I left this mud ball in the first place."

Goku had heard of the phrase of one's heart skipping a beat, but he had no reference to it till that moment, "Why you left..?"

Vegeta stared at him angrily before releasing a single word, "_Go._"

When it was apparent that the prince's decision would not be retracted, Goku composed himself and rose to his feet. He turned away so Vegeta would not be able to see his face. After a minute of deliberation, he spoke calmly, "..It must be lonely at the top." He brought the index and middle finger of his right hand to his forehead.

He

tried

to

concentrate.

He

could

hear

Vegeta

breathing.

The word was called, "Kakarot."

It sounded pained and small. Goku hesitated.

"Wait." The younger abandoned his technique altogether, but he did not meet the gaze that bore into him from behind.  
Vegeta spoke in an unfamiliar tone, "You can.. stay."


	69. answer

Goku awoke. He was pulled to consciousness due to the soft sound of pain. He immediately pulled himself upright and inquired, "What's wrong?" The situation was concerning because it was unexpected.

The brunette before him held the heels of his palms against his eyes in a vain effort to prevent further tears from escaping. "I felt.." he whispered, as if distrustful of his voice, "I felt.. my memories disappear."

The younger said nothing.

"It's terrible." The prince opened and closed his mouth several times, obviously trying to find the words. He finally spoke again, "It's terrible. I don't know why you're here."

"To remind you," the other Saiyan answered, "To ensure you will not forget that I'm Kakarot and that you have my dependency."

He allotted Vegeta all the time he needed.

"Why are you wearing that?"

The black-haired man suddenly felt uncomfortable in the uniform. "Because I had the right goal in mind, but my method of achievement was all wrong," he explained carefully in an effort not to embarrass himself. And as soon as he said it his mind chimed: Very wrong. The previous night had proven that.

**addendum resignation**

"You can..stay," he says in a tone I have never heard before. I still do not dare to move. When he looks into my eyes I get a discomforting feeling that I know exactly what he's thinking. The resounding thought is, Tomorrow this won't matter.

But it will.

It's amazing how often I miss the obvious. That in his world, the harder he pushes me away the more he's pleading for me to stay. I had a taste of that world. A world much like the one sun-bleached blue eyes showed me, but even worse. Yet one would ask, Why would he do it? Why would someone hurt another when they, in fact, don't want to? Why isolate themselves when they want to be saved? Why don't they save themselves? One would ask because they haven't been to a world with no heroes. With no hope. A world that only promises suffering.

Vegeta sits back and props himself against the back board. Slowly and hesitantly I mirror his position, and I'm relieved when there is no repercussion. I realize I'm staring at him, but I can't help it. It's amazing how tired he looks; as if saying those three words drained him completely. It's like I'm meeting him for the first time.

"Tell me," he speaks lowly, "what it was like growing up here. Tell me how you came to protect his planet."

**accrual abdication**

"I should know that," Vegeta said, "I did know.." He appeared completely crestfallen.

Goku said nothing.

"This is like deja vu, but worse," the prince broke the silence some minutes later, "The sensation of constantly losing my memories. 'Of slowly losing who I am.." He trailed off, obviously disturbed that he has vocalized so much of his personal opinion. The foundation of trust in Kakarot was slowly deteriorating and becoming something else. "I chose this," he said it as he was informing himself, "I chose my fate." His gaze rose till it joined with Goku's, "I chose my fate."

The other man nodded once.

"I chose.."

A recollection of a sensation taunted him like a shadow. The swaying notions of ignorance and knowledge fluctuated back and forth as if at war with one another.

Misdirection.

**accrual abdication**

Kakarot paints a picture for me. It's full of everything - hardships and humor, perseverance and pain. Some of the characters I know now, but now I know them then.

He isn't aware of how persuasive he is. He doesn't even know the argument exists. There's no point or counter-point. There's him, and me. His words and my reception of them. I don't just hear him, I listen.

It's strange, I cannot tell why I wanted his execution so badly. As he speaks to me of the World Martial Arts Tournament I show no panic at this lack of reason. That is because there is no panic. This has nothing to do with the malady.

My goal shifted.

I'm not sure when this took place.

Maybe it has been changing while I have been sleeping. Maybe I was changing while I was distracted with training and training and training. Maybe when I was another me for two years.

There is an odd peace within me - a peace I thought only Kakarot's death would provide. His story is like a lullaby. It makes me forget, but it is a pleasant type of loss. It brings me towards reliability and security and gently removes me from the heavy burdens I bear. It helps me forget that later in this story another villain appears. A heinous villain with no compassion or mercy that claims a noble and honorable title of prince.

In retrospect, I can now see how alienated he was, not by the humans, but by his own kind.

I was too blinded by my own alienation to notice. Too blinded by my own selfishness.

**addendum resignation**

"Take this. Do not let it go," Vegeta thought.

There was pain.  
An image. A figure. A scar.

He couldn't breathe, but he wouldn't let it go. Not this time.

"_That_ time!" the prince rasped, feeling strong arms urging him to sit up, yet his body resisted. Like the word on the tip of your tongue or detecting something out of the corner of your eye, he felt an answer. He refused to sacrifice this moment.

There had never been an answer before.

The brunette still wasn't breathing and the pressure in his head continued escalating. However, despite the agony in his skull and the burning of his lungs, Vegeta clung to the force behind his misdirection. 

Is this what humans called enlightenment? When you not only saw beyond destiny, but felt it?

His nose was bleeding again. He would not succumb. Not this time. Not this time!

this is your greatest failure yet, vegeta.  
if only you could laugh at your mistakes.

He had chosen.

Vegeta screamed in anguish and defiance, "I know what I have to do!" He repeated it over

and over

and over

until it became a cry of relief and exaltation.  
until the pain abated.  
until he could sit up properly.  
until Kakarot's voice could be heard.

With crimson across his jaw, the elder Saiyan inhaled till the beating of his heart calmed and he could savor this fleeting triumph. There was joy in the knowledge that not only had he one brief instant of lucidity, but it was his till he willfully discarded it.

Vegeta smiled.

Then the prince looked at the hero of Earth, and he told him the answer, "I have to go back." 


	70. 70

**70**

They arrived immediately, as if hearkening to a summons. Vegeta turned to examine the planet, breaking the contact between the two Saiyans.

It reminded the prince of a sepia photograph with hills of dark bronze rolling towards a copper sky. He felt the humidity in the air - sticky and stifling.

The brunet said nothing, but Goku mouthed one word to himself: "Cornelia."

Vegeta knelt and ran is hands across the dirt before threading his fingers into it to examine the texture. The dry soil colored his hands in earthy tones. His friend was watching the clouds above as they churned slowly, blending with one another to darken in both shade and hue.

"This isn't where you found me," Vegeta surprised the other man by suddenly speaking. The voice seemed to be accented by the lack of noise.

"No," Goku agreed, "The landscape was different."

"You came for me," the prince said softly, rising to his feet, "You felt my ki. Yet, when you did come for me, it took you to this planet first. Why not directly to me?"

"I don't know," the younger replied softly. Goku found it disconcerting how "normal" the planet appeared. His breathing was regular and the gravity was comparable to Earth's. It didn't feel foreign.

A flash of lightning erupted the world in bright chrome, and the resounding crack was painfully loud. A tumultuous downfall poured from the heavens like icy tears of an archaic god.

"This is it," Vegeta said with urgency humming through his voice, "This is the beginning."

---

He stumbled on some piece of metal protruding from the massive pile of junk he was crawling across. Except this time he saw that the garbage heap was composed of the same pieces of waste. He felt ill. Here, this was a door. There, that was a door. Here, this was a control panel. There, that was a control panel. Here, this was a turbine...

The Prince of Saiyans tried to breathe, but it was a struggle when panic assaulted him so abruptly.

There was no ki around him

but he soon realized that was because

he did not know how to look.

Yet, he could call out now. He could call out and someone would answer. Kakarot would hear. Kakarot would come. But he didn't have to do that because Kakarot was there. The Kakarot he knew.

This was a beginning. This was not the beginning.

---

Several days passed. Each man noticed how infrequently they spoke to one another now. Hunger and fatigue wore at their reserves and strained their already tumultuous relationship. Normally Goku would have never abandoned his inquiries in regards to Vegeta's well-being, but there was something oppressive and dark in the air that persuaded him to act otherwise. This bizarre tension coupled with strange dreams of sun-bleached blue eyes made him subdued.

Since they weren't conversing, the younger Saiyan found himself analyzing the elder. When his movements became stiff, Goku noted that it meant rain. When he was in deep thought, he pursed his lips to match his knit brow. The subtleties were intriguing to decipher because they offered insight where words did not. He was aware that Vegeta was rather proficient at lying, and it would be these minuscule actions that would reveal his true thoughts or intentions.

"Why am I building myself up for a betrayal?" the black-haired man pondered, "When has Vegeta ever been deceitful to me?"

He watched one balmy evening - as the rain abated briefly - Vegeta lie upon the damp earth and slowly accept sleep. Perhaps the betrayal had already taken place, Kakarot mused, Perhaps he doesn't even know. He lay next to him and watched the color leave the world as night came.

Again, sun-bleached blue eyes. This time they were worn by a familiar face. They were worn by a monster. Goku floated in and out of consciousness uncomfortably for the weather was as punishing as his dreams.

When his companion awoke, he forced Vegeta to succumb to an entire day of hiking, which proved fruitful in the end for they came across an impressive forest. While the Earth-raised Saiyan took this as a good sign, the body language of the prince expressed a vastly different perspective. The brunet was trying to mask his emotions therefore making it problematic to differentiate whether it was disgust or dread he was feeling. Maybe it was a mixture, thought Goku. Yet, he could not decipher why this place would cause such a reaction.

"Then again, what do I know about Cornelia?" Kakarot reminded himself, wishing he had spoken more on the subject with Shelly. With a twist in his chest, he furthered the thought, "What do I know about Vegeta?"

Their persistent silence was taking a toll on Goku, even if he resisted to display it outwardly. Doubt started to consume him, particularly when he was attempting to sleep. He would recall suddenly and vividly little tidbits of time that seemed unforgettable, but would melt away, if not immediately, no later than when he woke next. Goku's frustration mounted and he vented it by pushing them farther and further. Soon the hard, cold ground posed no trouble for rest as exhaustion replaced the need for comfort.

And, despite this nigh brutal pace, Vegeta did not protest - not verbally, at least. The prince did not refuse nor separate from Kakarot's company, yet they barely looked upon one another. Goku could feel the heat of Vegeta's hate at the edge of his mind, and he closed himself to it. It wasn't only unwarranted, but dangerous to let such a.. connection thrive. Especially here. Besides, it was intrinsically linked in Goku's mind that the return to this planet was directed under Vegeta's command and so all that transpired and the consequences thereof would fall to his responsibility.

In turn, the doubt inside the younger grew. Vegeta hadn't exactly been in the perfect state of mind when he first made his demand. In likelihood, he could have endured a seizure moments before, though Goku knew he was a far cry from a doctor. The more he dwelled on it the more the black-haired man thought it disturbing how the victim wanted to return to the accident scene. How could returning possibly help when being on this world had caused the dementia in the first place? It seemed counter-intuitive.

Yet, at the same, maddening time, curiosity kept most of these arguments at bay. There was hope as well that, despite Goku's inexperience with medicine, a cure or method of treatment would appear against all probability.

More time passed. It was becoming increasingly difficult to count the days. After approximately two weeks since their arrival the pair found the path widen and the forest taper off to mere dirt. Once they were at the tree line they both caught sight of architecture in the distance which rose from the horizon in shades of charcoal. Two strenuous days lapsed before Goku's resilience dissolved.

"When are we going to stop doing this?" Kakarot asked, his voice sounding loud and strange to himself.

"Doing what?" the brunet replied, bearing no hint of confusion.

The younger Saiyan felt a surge of anger ripple through his gut. It caused further discomfort, yet he scathingly answered, "Not talking."

"We're talking right now," Vegeta said.

Goku glared ahead of him and did not respond. He was too infuriated to dwell on anything besides completing some sort of objective and that meant reaching the cityscape. Rain fell constantly, as if drawn to their destination. It wasn't long before their feet trudged on slick asphalt and towering structures of metal and stone loomed above them. The interior of the city was narrow and winding as well as intact. With the drive to divest them from the harsh conditions, the younger Saiyan led them into a building at random.

Cramped hallways existed alongside a rickety staircase which spiraled upward. Both men casually inspected the shelter when a THUMP emitted from several floors up. Kakarot took the lead, cautiously approaching the source of the noise. It rang out again. Why had apprehension so suddenly poisoned the black-haired male? What was he expecting to find up there?

He burst through three apartments till he found the culprit - a broken window and an unlocked shutter. Obviously the high winds had blown it open. Goku closed and latched it before facing his friend. The prince's expression matched the one he had in the forest, the odd mixture of dread and disgust. Something else lingered as well, it was the way his eyes tried to avoid certain parts of the room.

Goku asked, "When are we going to talk about this?"

Vegeta barely inclined his head, "Talk about what?"

This time the younger let the anger swell till he swiftly closed the distance and let his fist express himself. Vegeta stumbled back and rubbed his jaw.

"What was that for!?" the brunet barked out.

"Oh fuck you," Kakarot growled before collapsing onto the aged couch, "I'm going to sleep." He curled into the cushions and closed his eyes. A few, tense seconds went by before he heard footsteps, and then the door to one of the bedrooms closed.

---

Shelly's office was immaculate in cleanliness and in color. In the chair he often occupied sat a female - not a child, but not an adult.

"I was trying to save you," Arestophenes spoke, her voice like a garbled, hoarse whisper. Her intense blue eyes stared directly at Shelly behind the desk. "My power pales in comparison to his. I tried to neutralize it."

"Even if that's true, your methods cannot be acknowledged," the doctor replied sternly, "You have to take into consideration those around you who were harmed by your decision."

"I did," hissed the girl, "You fail to see the bigger threat."

"The only threat I can perceive is his reckless attachment and blind perseverance, though I doubt either will cause harm to those around him," Shelly stated firmly, lacing her fingers.

Arestophenes would not back down, "Do you not see that that makes him more susceptible? His nightmare continues. We must destroy him in order to destroy the nightmare, else we lay unprotected."

Goku could not hold his tongue any longer, "How can you speak of Vegeta in such a way? He strives so hard to prevent destruction such as the kind you refer to."

Both women stared at him hard.

Shelly spoke, "What makes you think we're speaking of Vegeta?"

She stood, "We're speaking of you."

And he dreamt of monsters and darkness and rain.

He dreamt of stained glass and deceit.

Of truth and lies.

And of a scar.

---

Goku rolled half-way off the couch and knelt for a moment to breathe. He glanced at the window to see a palette of blue gently patter against the glass. It matched a small blemish that lurked amongst the dirt on the wall. He rose to examine the unique mark.

What was found was not a discoloration from a stain, but rather the original coloring of the room being exposed. He took hold of a frayed edge and pulled lightly. The paper gave way with ease and, with a sense of purpose, he tore savagely till at last there was a culmination.

Suddenly, the dreams made sense.

..Had he been sleeping at all?

He stood back and waited.

---

Vegeta had immediately noticed his companion staring intently at the wall. Intrigued, he stood beside Goku.

"A door," the prince said in mild surprise while examining this unusual development.

The other Saiyan abruptly slapped him. Vegeta did not question why, rather he waited indignantly for an explanation. Yet, the words did not come. Only an expression that read of an apology revealed little of what Goku was thinking.

"Go," the younger whispered. Then he himself turned away and exited the apartment. 


	71. seventyone

This chapter has quite a bit of formatting not supported by fanfiction dot net.  
To view this part go to this location:  
www . gotyaoi . com / felix / lit / nowhere71 . html  
(Delete spaces and then you have the correct address.)  
Thanks, Chuey!

seventy**one**

He hated the planet.

Cornelia.

It was akin to a curse, even in his head.

He hated the way it made him feel. The uncomfortable sensation of being bare. The pain of the loathing. It throbbed in his chest, his core. It was worse than any punch, kick, or ki blast he had ever received. Yet, it spread slowly, as if soaking into his essence. He felt the beginnings of hatred for feeling the emotion itself.

The empty streets even angered him.

There was no comforting lull of..

- he thought for a moment -

..of _life_.

The door had disgusted Goku. Not really the door itself, but what had lay beyond and what it represented. The wall it was attached to was old, ancient, as if every time it had begun to crumble it had been patched and fixed and remodeled and repaired till the original design was lost. A door sharing space with a window on the same wall wasn't uncommon, until you factored how far above the ground this door was situated. It had seemed similar somehow to the incident at Shelly's hospital.

He ambled aimlessly, turning corners on a whim as if trying to intentionally lose himself to the city. He was aware that he wanted distance from the other Saiyan and wrote off any strange behaviour on account of stress.

It was the age that had made him so livid. Rage atypical to him had manifested itself. He had considered a preemptive betrayal, but he had not expected something so.. antediluvian.

He passed a street sign. One side read "Neinth" - the other "Immoderatus."

It began to rain again, so he ducked into the nearest building. The entryway was dusty with stale air that smelled of mold. Investigating further inside, Goku discovered debris and damage from a fire. Papers were strewn across the floor like fallen leaves from a tree, many pages curled, all of them discolored. A randomly chosen sheet divulged little information about the building's former life. A truly discomforting notion came to the black-haired man, one that he found that he'd been able to oddly ignore.

Cornelia was such much like Earth.

The gravity, the air, the weather, and now the architecture and furnishings too. Something strange was occurring, something ominous and malignant. Goku's previous fervor for separation vanished and in its place came urgency. He stepped forward and found, too late, that the flooring here was brittle from time and ravaged by combustion. Thankfully, Kakarot landed without injury some fifteen feet below. He coughed for a moment, lungs upset from the ashes and other particles, then stood to gain his bearings.

A soft shaft of light illuminated his skin and the barren walls that bracketed him. From what he could gather, he was in a basement hallway. After a moment of his eyes adjusting, he took a quick look in both directions, but the path was swallowed by darkness on either side.

Some part of him said, You should be frightened right now. You know what this place is. You have seen it before, except this scale will undoubtedly be larger - infinitely.

Yet, another part disagreed. It proclaimed it was Vegeta's nightmare, not his own. It said, You have nothing to fear. No one can hear you. You are safe.

Most people would be apprehensive and forlorn knowing they were confined without the potential for escape. Goku's personality dictated that if he considered himself trapped, he actually hadn't looked hard enough for the exit.

So, he began his search.

The wall was cool to the touch, but also smooth, almost soft. At a leisurely pace he followed it into the dark recesses of _nowhere_.

I  
t

f  
e  
l  
t

b  
l  
a  
n  
k

a  
n  
d

e  
t  
e  
r  
n  
a  
l  
Goku found himself wondering why this would be terrifying to Vegeta. Why was this black labyrinth the prince's nightmare, and not something more.. physical? He was born and raised in a universe full of people like Freiza and fighting was essentially his life-blood. Maybe, on second thought, that was the very reason why it wasn't something expected. Maybe, he ventured, it contained all his fears. The lack of sight could call them into existence instead of hide them. The longer he lingered on the notion, he found himself thinking of that day when he penetrated the inky remains of the gym.

Was that what the prince truly dreaded? Could it really be something so blatant?

A  
hint  
of  
anxiety  
touched  
his  
consciousness.  
How  
had  
he  
escaped  
Arestophenes's  
gift?  
T  
h  
e

m  
e  
r  
e

i  
m  
a  
g  
e

o  
f

h  
i  
s

f  
r  
i  
e  
n  
d  
Co  
rne  
lia.  
The  
only planet  
to have ever  
been destroyed  
when it already was.  
Two centers, he recalled. One of routine and the other of chaos. They were both beautiful.

The  
goddamn  
quest ion  
was  
which was  
more  
beautiful..  
How could he chose?  
His breath shuddered while he turned yet another corner. Comprehension began to dawn. This place wasn't merely about fear; it was about failure. Simply being here was painful because it was a constant reminder of where he was _not_. It pressed upon him the responsibilities he was avoiding, the confrontations he was staving off, and the imminent loss of the Prince of Saiyans.

He was shaking, but from the hate this time.

Goku despised being a hypocrite. It was always easy to pretend everything had an answer - simple and singular. In fact, he never had trouble giving it. However, he had an uncanny ability to deviate from his own advice.

Suddenly, there was the knowledge of space.  
A room...?  
His questing palms probed the wall which indicated.. a difference.

Hmm...

In  
ret  
ros  
pect  
he s  
houl  
dn't  
have  
step  
ped s  
o bol  
dly.  
Wincing and cursing, he pulled himself back onto his feet. At least nothing felt broken.  
Great, he thought, a headache on top of a headache. Wonderful.  
An image came back to him, the one of his friend.  
Why had that freed him that day? He had been  
immersed in his realm of panic, but thinking of  
Vegeta granted him immunity. Had he.. Had  
he felt him? Kakarot knew that foolishly  
he left himself open at times.  
It could be construed as an  
invitation of sorts. All the  
while he hunched to  
follow the narrowing  
path. Why was it  
so damn  
important  
to be the  
savior?  
Why  
did  
he h  
ave  
to p  
rote  
ct?  
Wha  
t wa  
s it  
repl  
aci  
ng?

(He first went to his knees.

Then finally to his stomach.)

He  
ha  
d o  
ne  
sh  
ou  
ld  
er  
in  
fr  
o  
n  
t  
o  
f  
t  
h  
e  
o  
t  
h  
e  
r  
i  
n  
o  
r  
d  
e  
r  
t  
o  
p  
r  
e  
s  
s  
f  
o  
r  
w  
a  
r  
d  
He exhaled to order to move  
t  
i  
l  
l  
it  
wi  
den  
ed a  
gain.

Caution was exercised  
when he perceived space again.  
It only took a few moments to discover  
that he had entered a room that was circular in shape.  
What was disconcerting, however, was that the entrance was  
now gone. Still not willing to be subjugated, he checked several times  
to ensure that he was correct about the passageway. Then, and only  
then, did he dare to distance him self from the wall. Slowly  
he pr ogressed forward. Now there was the sensation of closure.  
It was uncomfortable. He moved with hesitancy. The  
soft sound of his boots shuffled against the floor.  
His breath felt like the only thing warm in exist  
ence. Then he felt it, or rather, the lack of sensat  
ion. A hole existed. After a few minutes he  
found it to be roughly ten feet in dia  
meter. Too wide to climb.

He sat.

The temperature dropped steadily across what seemed to be a vast amount of time. Eventually Goku pulled his coat closer around himself when he began to shiver.

His coat. His coat he hadn't been wearing.

The Saiyan felt across the fabric, authenticating its presence.

It wasn't his, and yet it was.

Further exploration revealed two boxes lurking in the inner breast pocket. Touch and sound revealed their nature: a package of cigarettes, and a matchbox containing one match. He held them in his hands for a long while.

Is it some sort of bizarre fetish? he asked himself, Do I truly enjoy hijacking every situation that I deem unequal? Shelly is right.. Do I always_have_ to play the hero?

Goku's fingers gently prod the pack until he opened it and extracted a stick. He rolled it in his hand, thinking, "I truly am a horrible liar." Funny how Vegeta always saw right through him. Kakarot brought the cig to his lips where upon he was still once more.

If only they knew how guilty he felt.  
For every broken promise.  
For every untold truth.  
For every time he ignored a problem.  
For every infidelity unnoticed.

Goku struck the match, watching the scrape of friction transform sparks to flame. The fire did not dance.

Funny how, despite Goku's constant reliance on dishonesty, Vegeta didn't despise him for it. Instead of completely resenting him, the brunet only insisted that he be veracious.

His fire made a dull, orange glow when it met the tobacco, then it quietly spluttered out. The cigarette burned as Goku wondered that if pity and love could be confused then could temptation and liberation be as easily entwined. He inhaled, choking marginally, as if merely picking up the habit again. Its taste hinted of mint and wood.

"Why are you smoking?" Kakarot asked himself, his feet dangling over a void.

Then a strange sense of peace stole over his chest. Peace surrounded and born of hatred. 'Like a gentle resignation which led to indifference.

It makes me feel alive, Goku told himself.

'To know it was killing part of himself. That the disgusting act was a flaw.. he reveled in it. To break the image of perfect.. it made him feel alive. Unideal. It served as a reminder of different times - moments captured only as memories. There had been days before promises, where curiosity was an inspiration and not a conduit to sin.

He smoked the pack.  
Every  
last  
one.

Perhaps it was some sort of placebo effect, but Earth's hero genuinely felt the apprehension leave him. In its place came a feeling he could not recognize. It vowed results. He also was not bothered by how much he liked it.

Compelled, he rose and took the final remains of his escape from his lips. He exhaled, unable to see the smoke ring that rose into the air and fade out of existence. With one flick, Kakarot rid himself of his inhibition. It wasn't warranted. Not here. Not ever.

The glowing ember of the cigarette drifted away, shrinking till its light was gone completely. He stared down into the velvety nothing and felt a smirk upturn his lips.

Goku declared, "It _is_ lonely at the top."

He took the only egress.


	72. 72

72

A simple, unintrusive light emerged - a pin point to sculpt the.. environment. It grew quickly, exponentially. Slowly his senses detected the rushing of air as it wound around his body and through his hair. Then he heard the rustle of his clothing as he plummeted, rose, cascaded onwards in no direction. He smelt only the remnants of mint and wood.

Yet Goku felt no fear.

While a world and his form continued their collision course the Saiyan thought, "I'm missing something."

Then he was sliding and a door slammed behind him. The apartment spread around him. His hands extended towards the couch, impossibly stationary against the gravity. He fell, skidding across the wooden floor, unable to stop his descent. He passed through the other threshold. Down into a stormy maw he cascaded, tumbling across flagstones.

Bruised, the black-haired man rose to an unfamiliar landscape. Fog laced the scenery and chilled the air. Dull lamp light illuminated a decaying town. Goku's innate response upon standing was to ball his hands into fists. Something is wrong, he decided. This wasn't the world he had seen through the door before. That world was full of sin and degradation and misconceptions of grandeur. This world was quiet, yet just as disapprobating. The buildings looked forlorn, as if neglect had rotted their aura beyond repair.

The wind howled, but otherwise sound was scarce.

Goku followed the shadowy recessed streets, feeling the echo of time. He stopped briefly at a shop window, cleaning a layer of soot off of the glass with his coat sleeve. Inside was a burnt, discarded porcelain doll with blue eyes. "They're going to die," the doll abruptly said.

A few heartbeats passed.

Against his better judgement, Goku replied to the object, "..Who?"

"Everyone," the doll spoke in a symphony of voices, "All of us." The blue eyes seemed like the bright mid-day sun.

The Saiyan took a step back, but he could still see those blue eyes. The blue eyes of Bulma. The chocolate eyes of Chi-chi and Gohan. The smoky hazel of Krillin's irises and the charcoal of Piccolo's. He risked another look, but the doll was gone. And yet.. the eyes.. the voices.. lingered.

"We're all going to die," they whispered, "because of you."

"N-no," the Saiyan choked out, covering his face with his hands, "This.. isn't real! It's this world." How could a location know about his fears? It was a place, it wasn't sentient...

But I am, Goku realized, I know all of my secrets.

He quickly strode further down the street, trying to push away memories. An awkward sensation stole over him, as if his presence were invading upon something private. There generally were reprecrussions for interloping. He was sweating, anxious, wondering what was happening to him. After he turned a corner he backpeddled to avoid impact with a figure.

"What are you doing, you fool!?" Vegeta seethed at him with arms folded, "Didn't I warn you about this!?"

"Wha-" the younger man started before he was punched in the mouth.

"You have no idea what this is like!" the brunet raged, "I told you to kill me! What are you trying to do? Save me? Kakarot, you really have no idea what you're doing, do you? You can't save me, but you can save everyone else. How hard can it be? I want to be put out of my misery, and everyone else wants to live. Why can't you make that sacrifice? Why can't you do anything right!?"

Goku fumed for a moment before tackling the prince, pulling hard into Vegeta's lower back while jamming his head into the presented solar plexus. With a sharp exhalation, the shorter male lost his balance and quickly went to the ground. The sable-haired man was on him in an instant, but Vegeta instinctively shifted his hips sideways, kicking half in offense to stave lambasting, half in defense to gain manuveurability. Some weak blows landed on the prince's ribs before a kick in Goku's groin deterred further assault. The magnate scrambled up, creating space in order to flee while his attacker wheezed for a few seconds.

Channeling the pain into anger the younger Saiyan gave chase, jabbing the brunet in the back - first under the shoulder blades, then he opted for kidney shots. "Gnhk!" Vegeta grimaced before spinning around to land a roundhouse kick on Goku's inner thigh. He watched his friend's eyes widen before an unfamiliar scowl graced Goku's features as he launched forward with determination. Powerful punches were thrown sloppily, yet executed with so much fervor that it taxed Vegeta's concentration to parry them.

"What," the brunet gritted out, "are you doing!?"

Goku stopped, placing his hands at his sides. Warily, Vegeta slipped into a regular, balanced stance.

"You.. fucking liar," Kakarot did not shout, "You ask me to kill you, but you defend yourself?" The prince offered no response. "Do you know what _this_ is like?" the taller Saiyan restrained the level of his voice, "Do you even care about doing something right? I guess I am a fool. 'A fool for trying to save a coward. 'A fool for believing in you."

"Kakarot-"

"So now you acknowlege me!?" the younger lost control over his voice, "No! I won't have it. Not anymore. Not from a coward. You came to me once for vengeance and blood - squandering like a child, but confused. It was forgivable. Then, you came again for reliance and dependability. If this is how your forsake our promise, then there is nothing more between us, and I retract my offer."

"Kakarot, please-"

"Do not ask of me that which I cannot perform!" Goku thundered, the hatred in his chest feeling as if it would burst forth and alight the world, "You aren't asking for mercy; you're asking for murder! Do not pretend that I don't know the difference. There was.. there is so much inside you, that you just don't see. 'So much goodness.." The tirade wore down, spiraling into the realm of sadness and regret, "But if you insist on.. on killing yourself, then I cannot.. allow... ..I can't follow you anymore." He turned briskly and began to walk away.

Vegeta called to him, staying within reasonable distance, "You don't understand! You don't know what I'm capable of! _I_ don't even know what I'm capable of! Kakarot, I'm scared all the time: never knowing if I'm going to remember this, always wondering if I'm going to hurt someone else.. This isn't living." A growl erupted from Goku's throat before his pace suddenly ascended to a sprint. Vegeta pursued. "Wait!" he barked out inbetween breaths. Their footsteps bounced off stone till suddenly the fog ate the sound. "KAKAROT!" the prince exclaimed, slipping on the dewy incline of the road.

Goku finally obliged, halting his movement in order to reply, "You don't get it." A moment passed as both men attempted to gain lost breath. "Nothing worth having is easy," Kakarot spoke in soft tones, "...I thought you cared for me. Not for the idea of Goku. Not for the idea of Kakarot. For me. Now I see that you only cared for yourself. Goodbye." In shock, the prince watched as his last living subject abandoned him.

It was only a moment later that the road sunk in on itself, revealing that its true form had been a bridge.

Vegeta wasted no time to scream his friend's name. He spared nothing to hesitation. Without conscious thought - he dove.

The air was bitterly cold, and it stung their skin. A few seconds later and the fog dissapated, revealing another world spread beneath them. Far beneath him.

Panic was a foreign emotion to Goku, but - when he attempted to grasp his ki and could not - he became intimately knowledgeable on the sensation. "I'm going to die," the black-haired Saiyan thought to himself, "I'm going to die on this planet and I have no idea what will happen to me." It was terrifying and also oddly, shamefully exhilerating. Maybe this was punishment. Maybe it was wrong to leave Vegeta in this condition. Maybe this was for not leaving him sooner. Then he went through panic to the otherside which became delusional calm. It was bizarre to Kakarot - whose life was normally full of certainty - to be acutely aware that not only was he was completely powerless, but that beyond his demise was pure speculation.

Time distorted.

"Maybe," Goku thought, "only one of us can be saved."

Maybe this was the real sacrifice.

The cold air was interrupted by warm arms.

Vegeta held him tightly, protectively.

They fell together towards a dark spot that grew ever larger and became more defined.

The prince felt odd, as if he wasn't able to anticipate his own actions anymore. The impending impact called forth memories and emotions that he had tried to eradicate fruitlessly. Yet instead of torment they brought clarity and focus. He was aware that a burden had been temporarily lifted. It carved a path through his mind, accentuating the pressure of the situation. There was the dominant desire to live... which was overtaken by something more powerful. Something that had drove him to this planet in the first place. Something horrible, beautiful, loathesome and redeeming all at once.

Below them a sea churned, a vast expanse, a pattern of waves.

There was a shower of golden light.  
Then darkness.


	73. 73

73

Coolness brushed Goku's face, gently rousing him. He sat upright in an instant, becoming aware of multiple points of interest - the first and foremost being that he was not dead. Secondly, he located Vegeta on the other side of him. They lay on a beach at the shoreline. The prince looked peaceful with the waves rhythmically lapping at his form. Then a moment of dread stole over the younger Saiyan and he shook the brunet whilst calling his name.

Vegeta opened bleary eyes that focused on the figure above him. "Kakarot," he croaked, cleared his throat, and continued, "You're alright."

"What happened?" his friend asked, wringing water out of his ebony locks.

"I'm not sure," the shorter man replied, slowly dragging himself out of the water, "We were falling, and then..." Goku watched him closely as the prince started to drip dry. Yet Vegeta merely shrugged, "And then we were here." It seemed both Saiyans attempted to take in 'here' at the same moment. It was night and stars were shining like jewels in the velvet sky above them. The air was warm, comfortable. A hint of fragrance was in the air, something possibly floral, but faint and pleasant.

Goku felt a prickle on this skin and turned, finding the elder man staring at him intently. His monster underneath.

_His...?_ The idea spiked a queasy sensation in the pit of his stomach.

"This is where we part," the prince spoke carefully, as if the words themselves were fragile. Goku's facial expressions prompted him to further expound, "We have separate paths." He offered no other explanation.

Eventually, and without a word, the black-haired Saiyan complied.

Time seemed to pass quickly, and yet not at all.

The scenery was a vast improvement from the past few weeks. Lust meadows stretched out beyond the horizon, dotted by the occasional oak tree. He spent afternoons under them, wondering endlessly how to proceed. At night he gazed up at unfamiliar constellations as gentle breezes kept the silence at bay. His dreams were strange and discomforting in such a vague way he felt apathetic rather than upset by them.

Some dreams he saw Chi-chi in an orange jumpsuit sitting on the ground and glaring up at him on the other side of rusted bars. She never said anything - only gave him that look as if she finally saw through his facade and hated him for it.

Some dreams he found himself blazing across the galaxy beside Vegeta, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

Darker still were the dreams where he was falling through fog towards a planet below. He could never muster any ki in order to stop his descent. Then a voice would mock him, "You don't _want_ to fly." It was his own voice. It always made him laugh, and the laugher was always abruptly cut off. And then he'd be observing himself on a flat, metal slab with Shelly decked out in surgeon garb cutting him open. Inside was all blackened - as if from smoke - and she would shake her head sadly, carefully carve out an organ, and feed it to Arestophenes.

He headed South for no particular reason at all. The days felt identical, as each succeeding day provided no deeper insight into his dilemma. One evening he spread out across the grass and rested. When his eyes opened he saw the glittering dots of stars. He connected them in his mind, creating creatures and stories for them. Suddenly, for no explicit reason, he craved a cigarette. Goku chewed on his lip in irritation, unable to fathom this urge. It would certainly help if he didn't keep thinking about the delicious smell they produced.

Several moments passed before his eyes widened.

He kept thinking about the smell because it was actually wafting in the air.

"It took you long enough to notice," a voice said from behind him. That voice. He couldn't bear to acknowledge it properly. The laughter came too, and it was rich and carefree, "Don't flatter yourself into thinking that I'm here for you. You don't even know why _you're_ here."

"Vegeta asked-"

"Asked you to bring him back. You didn't have to stay. Did you really think this would save him?"

"I thought-"

"That something would present itself. Are you that naive?"

Goku paused before answering, "..You already know what I'm going to say, don't you?"

"I wouldn't be you if I didn't," Kakarot said, taking a long drag. Goku finally turned to him, determination etched across his features. The.. other him.. was sitting on a boulder that had not been earlier in the day. He wore jeans, a t-shirt, and a trench coat. Oddly, his feet were bare. He accepted the scrutiny without any indication of disapproval.

"I'm dreaming," the black-haired man on the ground declared.

"Right you are," chimed the smoker. With a strange sense of grace he extracted a cigarette from the pack and tossed it to Goku. Subsequently a lighter followed. Earth's hero accepted both gifts with relief.

After taking an initial puff, Goku inquired, "So, what do you want?" His tone made such a callous statement seem friendly.

"I could ask the same of you," Kakarot responded with a grin, "Mr. I-Was-Disappointed-When-I-Found-Out-My-Wife-Was-Pregnant."

Goku stared at him in horror.

The grin didn't go away as the other him intoned, "Or do you prefer Mr. I-Wish-An-Enemy-Would-Appear-So-My-Friends-Would-Temporarily-Take-Me-Seriously?"

A hot flush coursed through the Saiyan's body and unaccustomed notions flitted across his brain faster than Instant Transmission.

Kakarot leered, "Or how about Mr. I-Want-To-Jam-My-Cigarette-Into-His-Face..?"

"Shut up," Goku commanded.

The bare-foot male leaned back and gazed up as if searching for the constellation that had been so recently created. "Gonna make me?" he provoked, waiting two ticks before adding, "Mr. I-Think-I-Might-Be-G--" He was tackled off of the boulder then punched in the face more times than he could follow.

Spitting out blood and obviously a little punch drunk, Kakarot chortled, "You ain't no damsel in distress, but you still want your prince charming!" This earned him at least a handful of bruises. Yet, like some broken pull-string toy, he still continued, "You're waiting on your fairy tale ending, huh? You know.. happy couples consummate their relationship, but you two keep beating around the bush!"

"Shut up!" roared Goku, punching till his knuckles were raw.

Kakarot was a fairly gruesome sight by now, but his eyes shone with undeterred mischief as he wheezed out, "Beat around the bush.. Get it..? Mr. I-Want-To-Throttle-Him-To-Death?" There was no punishing strike. Instead, Goku stared down at him with a pained expression.

"Yeah," he said quietly, "I get it."

They sat for awhile.

Eventually Kakarot said, "Would you-"

"Yes," the other him replied. He got out a cigarette and lit it before putting it to the set of bloody lips.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

He woke spread out on the grass with an early sun peering across the landscape. Goku walked to where the boulder had been in his nightmare and he kicked at the ground in distaste. His foot collided with something abnormal so he knelt to investigate. A black box jutted out of the ground at an angle which he worked to dislodge. It yielded to his effort and he wiped the dirt off of its surface.

In white a brand had been placed upon it. The letter C inset to a larger letter C above two words all of which was outlined. The words were blemished, but he didn't need them to know who this belonged to and what it was.

Capsule Corporation would want to know he recovered the most pivotal piece of Vegeta's ship.


	74. 74

74

Kakarot's departure causes lucid dreams of an alternate possibility.  
Like an observer lurking, passively inputing into memory what experiences I traverse.  
Of power, I come to rival him, renewing purpose and instilling faith in the dogmatic rituals of pride's progress.

The nights grow longer, the beauty marred by caustic winds and craggy inlets.  
Splendor tainted by visions of another time.

To see myself in such a succinct manner is worthy of resignation.  
Yet, I feel compelled to pursue what is deemed appropriate.  
This example bestowed upon me calls for response while I slumber beside the toiling blue.

An ache too familiar returns, consuming the cavity of my chest with savage intent.  
I'm claimed by my mistakes.  
The choice is made.


	75. seventyfive

_seventyfive_

I cannot take my gaze away from the computer screen. Anger, awe, and shock wage war within me, battling for dominance, inhibiting the flow of coherant thought. Then dawns a comprehension in regards to the data before me. It empowers me. For now I know the secret that Goku has been trying so desperately to keep hidden.

Why? Why would Vegeta do this to himself? He couldn't possibly be _proud _of this, could he? This monstrosity of mathematics and science. The brilliance of the code shames even me, yet I would never have imagined a formula such as this. While it is a symphony of expediency and complexity, it is also something excruciatingly disturbing. I strive to understand the purpose of this formula. Whatever he had hoped to achieve by setting his navigation by it, I believe he failed.

"Any progress?" Goku's voice startles me from my inner musings. A serpentine moment passes where I consider lying to him.

"Yes," I answer, determined to not mimic his behavior, "I recovered all the logs."

He inquires directly as he stands beside me, "So what planet was he trying to get to before the ship malfunctioned?"

Ah. Interesting. Either he's an exceptionally good liar or he genuinely doesn't know. I want to believe in his ignorance because if he _is _lying that means he's testing me to see if _I _will lie. When did I go from trusting this man with my life to not even trusting his motives on asking a question?

"He wasn't trying to go to any planet," I say, "There was no malfunction."

He frowns, which normally isn't a typical expression on his face anyways, but what makes it so odd is how uncomfortable it makes me feel. "What do you mean?" he speaks slowly.

I meet his stare evenly, "There was no accident. This is his command." I point, but he doesn't even glance at it.

"No," he declares, "That can't be right. King Kai and myself located him. The machinery would have to malfunction to create a portal for him to crash as he did."

I feel a surge of anger rise in me, "I wouldn't say this unless I'm sure, Goku. It wasn't a mistake. It was a command manually input into the console."

"No!" he raises his voice, "That's wrong! Vegeta hates that planet, why would he chose to go there?"

I match his volume, "He didn't program the ship to go to a planet! He programmed the ship to go nowhere! As in nothing, as in the opposite of anywhere!"

Goku's eyes widen and he looks appaled, "What..?"

"It's right there," I seethe, pointing again. His expression becomes disconcerting. This is the closest to terror I have ever seen on his face. "He was trying to leave this universe and he was doing it intentionally."

He looks ill while staring at the characters on the screen, his normally pale skin taking an unhealthy sheen. His fingertips reveal how he trembles: resistfully. After what feels to be too long he clenches his hands into fists and inhales audibley.

Finally, he speaks again barely above a whisper, "Why he left in the first place..."

And just like that - he's gone.


	76. 76

76

Shame. Such a simple word. One syllable.

It riddled Vegeta's consciousness while his hands idly fingered cool metal.

Memories of chastising his friend invaded the forefront of his mind, forcing him to consider darker avenues of thought.

Could one confuse selfishness and selflessness? Was he using excuses instead of reasons? Had his failures been paved by the imprint of others - forcing executions preceding a prompt, or were they instead unbiased decisions made solely by his person?

Willing himself to open his eyes, he felt the warmth of the sun leave his skin. His pupils adjusted to the darkness, allowing him to see the silhouette of himself in the mirror with the tool still clutched in his pale, trembling hands. Pale this time due to the pristine whiteness of a glove shrouded in the night. And yet they were bare, crudely soft and unmarred by the toils they had enacted.

He rose silently, carefully steadying his balance as well as his conviction. His steps were careful, deliberate, measured, painstaking to control. Every movement slid the world out of focus, fluctuated his vision, his thoughts, his being.

No one... No one should be allowed to do this. The words - no - the idea flooded across his consciousness, saturating the shame that infected the crevices of his soul. Anxiety began to blossom as the familiar faded to the bizarre.

No! he dictated, I must see this!

The prince muted his shadow, his other half, his infinite other selves. For them - he reminded himself as he came to a door - for Kakarot, I do this. One hand grasped the knob; the other failed to make contact, gliding frictionless through time and space uncontrolled and unbidden. His heart beat loudly in his chest, yet had the slow rhythm of the lethargic. While the gloved hand turned the brass, the unclothed recoiled, hesitated, and joined itself.

A room well known was revealed in faint luminescence. Bulma Briefs rested, a visage of feminine beauty, propped on several pillows under a warm, downy comforter. Blues tresses framed her peaceful face, her muscles relaxed though her arms still coiled around a smaller figure. As if sensing his presence, sapphire eyes opened. Sleepily she murmured, "Come to bed, Vegeta. It's been a long day." The child in her arms shifted closer, nuzzling boyish features into the warmth of his parent.

Like the coward he was, he ran, leaving the gloves, himself behind.

Bursting back into his room he fled the shroud of night and crashed into the bed. His breath was ragged from the pain of what he witnessed, his one palm sweating from how tightly it clutched the device.

Look what you've done! he silently screamed. Hell would be too good for you!

A cry was wrenched from his throat. The after-image of a demon wilted his spirit, yet enabled him to shift his weight so that he sat upon the floor, his back against the side of the mattress.

"What have I done?" Vegeta whispered aloud, hardly recognizing his own voice.

Then the demon became an angel as Kakarot filled its space. Two Saiyans looked upon each other, exchanging something that could never be spoken. Goku's eyes flickered downward to inspect before their gazes became transfixed. He ought to feel outraged by this display, but the younger man only felt fatigued. "You think I cannot stop you?" Goku asked softly as despair suffocated his senses.

"Even the gods sleep," the prince answered.

The silence was next broken by the locking of the hammer.

"There is nothing I can do?" his friend offered, "Nothing I can say..?"

In response Vegeta lifted the weapon and placed the barrel between his teeth.

With a deliberate mimic of movement, Goku brought two fingers to his forehead.


	77. seventyseven

**seventy-seven**

All at once:  
-feet tucked under, weight across calves  
-mud pasting clothing to skin  
-icy droplets pouring, numbing  
-stabs of pain as lungs heaved  
-a point of pressure against the skull

Voices as one, dark and silky, "Without true regret there shall be no peace."

He knew what was to come. Tears were due.

Then they'd:  
-pull the triggers  
-damage his body beyond repair  
-take what he had taken

Yet he did not lament. The obligation was rejected.

Fingers held steadfast, frozen at the precipice of choice. The two visions - the two mirrors of ebony eyes and cruel smirks - converged. It was a shadow of a memory, nothing more than a facade - a false idol:

"He's not afraid this time."

A voice behind him announced, "Do what must be done."

As two, as one, the figure, the image of the past dropped the large automatic weapon and closed its eyes. It was bizarre to see such a placid construction. The pressure on Vegeta's cranium abated, and then, rivaling the crack of thunder that enveloped the passing drama, a fatal shot rang out. With a ghost of a smile, the body crumpled to the ground.

"Not afraid of dying anymore?" the bearer of the gun asked the kneeling prince, "What a pity. That merely complicates things."

The brunet slowly rose, not realizing how much his body had been abused till this strain, "..had to come back." The response came hoarsely as he stared at the shrouded person before him.

"To show you're not a coward?" Kakarot asked, scoffing, "Congratulations. You can get an idiot's send-off for not knowing when to run."

"You didn't put a bullet in my head this time," Vegeta replied coolly.

"Right you are," the black-haired bastard was grinning unfriendly at the admission. He shrugged then, feigning indifference, "Although there's one aspect you disappointingly didn't consider."

"What would that be?"

"You didn't even try to fight."

There was an odd sensation of suction and, startled, Vegeta looked down to see himself sinking into the earth. He struggled for a moment, but gave up lest he lose his balance. Imploring, he reached out, asking without urgency, "Kakarot, please, help me."

"Why should I?" the younger man taunted, sneering down at him condescendingly. "What would it accomplish? We both know you can't die."

"But you-" the prince began.

"Yeah, yeah," his friend cut him off, "You wanna do the right thing, but you're still doin' it for all the wrong reasons."

"Just-"

"It's not so simple, Vegeta. It isn't just me and you anymore," explained Kakarot, kneeling so he was closer to eye level, "I appreciate what you've given me, I really do. There's no way _not_ to. But you brought.. him.. here and that changes things."

Vegeta lifted his arms, wishing he could tread to keep the conversation going longer, "Him?"

"You know who," Kakarot practically purred, "And as much fun as it is watching you chase your tail, I'd much rather prefer chasing the tail you are at the moment."

Affronted, the brunet snapped out, "What!?"

"Haha," the sable-haired man laughed richly, "That got a reaction, eh? Hit a nerve, did we? Well.. you only have yourself to blame for this damnation, and you know it. You just don't accept it yet. That's ok. We have all the time in the world, Vegeta."

The pressure of the sludge compacted him painfully, making it difficult for the prince to breathe. He lifted his neck in a desperate act of self preservation. Trying to shout a retort filled his mouth with muck and he gagged and choked in misery.

A web of lightning flickered light across Kakarot, a strange rhythm of intensities. Impossibly, the man lit a cigarette in the downpour. After a deep inhale and another grin, he added, "All time. Every time."

And darkness crushed.


	78. 78

A/N: In order to avoid plot holes and out of character actions - and also to provide a better flow and sense of clarity - I've begun editing the fic as necessary. So far, any of the chapters that have needed alteration between 1 and 17 have been updated accordingly.

**78**

An obscenely loud scream woke him, but it was the deprivation of his lungs and the pain in his jaw that caused him to realize that it was his own.

Vegeta let the noise abate while his brain scrambled to process the situation. He lifted his head muzzily, noting immediately the various tubes and wires that connected his body to several mechanical devices. An I.V. steadily dripped while his heart monitor revealed his rapid, but calming, pulse. The earlier pain in his jaw was mounting, sobering him briefly before escalating and causing his mind to revert back to obscurity. Cautiously, he brought his hand to touch the offending region, feeling the prickles of further discomfort while fingertips identified bandages in place.

There was-  
the ground painted with his blood: a splatter of rich crimson that looked so artistic he swore it could've been thrown on a canvas to be hung on a living room wall.

Then-  
glancing around, he spotted the bed post. He effectively pulled the metal end off and tried to pass the pipe-like object to Kakarot. "Here!" he urged, "You want to help me? Bash my head in! Hit me till I fucking stop bleeding!"

It became-  
a voice:  
Vegeta, you're going to lose me. In order not to, you're going to have to hurt me. It's okay. I know you don't want to. I know you'd regret a necessity.

Which morphed into-  
a sharp pain spread through the prince's sinus region, and he slapped the tip of his fingers against the side of the bridge of his nose. Abnormal wetness trickled down his right nostril and dripped onto his shirt thereby staining it red.

"Vegeta!" an outside source forced the memories to recede and reveal the present. Bulma was over him, her petite frame looking slightly more gaunt than usual. "Try not to move," she instructed, glancing down. His blurred vision followed her gaze to his arm. She injected something into his I.V. which made him light-headed for a moment before restoring a bit of normality.

He tried to speak, but the brunet wrestled to make intelligent sounds within his throat.

"Easy, now," the lady scientist coaxed.

The prince lay breathing under her intense stare, trying to convince himself that panicking was not necessary. After a few moments she seemed satisfied that he would not make sudden movements, thereby turning away to place the needle into the hazardous disposal.

She paused on her route back to the bedside and detoured to the door which she shut quietly. With her back to him he was unable to decipher any meaning for this action, and, as the lady continued to stand at the threshold, he began to wonder what thoughts were coursing through her scientific mind.

Bulma returned to the bed, but did not speak. Rather, she reached below and moved hastily.

"What's going on?" the brunet inquired, craning his neck to see. Yet, she did not answer him verbally. The response came as a visual and physical response; he witnessed in his disoriented state as the woman strapped his body tightly to the mattress. "That isn't necessary," he declared, his face a play of light and dark as a scowl crossed his features. As if in retaliation, Bulma constricted the leather further.

"You put a gun to your head and pulled the trigger and you're going to tell _me_ that these aren't necessary?" she scathingly said, glaring at him now in full force.

A growl erupted from his throat and transfigured into speech, "You don't understand. Kakarot-"

At the name, Bulma interrupted, "Goddamnit with Kakarot!" He lapsed into stunned silence. Certainly he had witnessed the heiress's anger, but this emotion she exuded seemed much more raw and powerful. "Admit it, Vegeta," she brought her voice down to talking level, "You did it because of him. He did this to you. Didn't he?"

"Wha-?" the perplexed prince struggled with words, "Did what? Shoot myself?"

He was instantly aware that this was the wrong response because her hands balled into two, tight fists. "The code!" Bulma screamed with her bloodshot blue eyes glinting with determination and demands, "Did you think I wouldn't find out!? Could you not stand the fact that he was the only Saiyan left? Could you not stand the fact that he had bested you _once_? Was Earth really so horrible that you decided the entire universe was sub par? Wasn't-" A hesitation slipped into her tirade before she finished the thought, "..Wasn't this good enough for you!?" Inside, hidden, the true question riddled her with pain: _Wasn't_ I _good enough for you?_

The unnaturally pale pallor of Vegeta's face took a sickly hue at her harsh inquisitions. The scowl faded, leaving the majority of his features devoid of emotion.

She outburst again, "Fucking bastard, say something!"

Quietly, he obeyed, "Let me up. Kakarot is in danger."

Metallic chimes littered the air as the enraged woman carelessly threw a tray of instruments into the far wall. "What does it take to get through to you!?" her yelling began to make her throat hoarse, "Do I have to spurn you till you desire to murder me?" The brunet, obviously uncomfortable, shifted his gaze away. In a serpentine movement, Bulma snatched his jaw and forced him to face forward, "Look at me!" Agony blossomed from the bullet wound and a tangy warmth of blood awoke his taste buds. Two obsidian orbs resolutely gave into her will, revealing she was his sole focus of attention. "Why did you do it?" she asked again, her voice the opposition of her grip.

Begrudgingly he sought an answer, but tangled memories inhibited any progress. With honestly he replied, "I cannot answer you."

She held him fast as hot tears gathered bitterly in her eyes. "You won't," she stated quietly.

"I can't-"

"Stop!" she pleaded, releasing her grip in order to begin the task of redressing his wound, "Whatever happened certainly happened for a reason. It's just damn near impossible to help you when you refuse to share information." She jerked the damp bandages off before applying antibiotics. He hissed, wincing at the contact. Bulma continued as she worked, her touch becoming more ginger and delicate, "Maybe this isn't what you want to hear, but maybe that's why I should say it: Besting Goku isn't going to solve your problems. It's not going to undo the damage that's been done. It won't right the wrongs. I know you think you have something to prove, but the only person you have to prove anything to is yourself. So, what kind of a man do you want to prove you can be?"

"...Best him?" the brunet rebuked, "No. I haven't desired that for so long. ..The Saiyan legacy, heritage, and pride - that's what I've sought. And that tenuous connection I have with the only other like me? I'm more likely to get into Heaven than establish what Kakarot is experiencing right now. Maybe it's a foolish endeavor to seek purpose in a life such as this, but I could give a fuck less about that philosophical bullshit right now. Your friend is out there, Bulma, and he needs my help. Now, please, let me up."

"To ask you how you know this.. that Goku is, in fact, in danger.. would it be pointless?" she carefully bound the padded gauze.

"No. It's never pointless to ask," Vegeta said softly, confidently, "It's what makes us more."

Her hand completed its task, then moved up to smooth back stray locks of hair about his temple. "More than what?" Bulma spoke it as a melancholy murmur.

He gave the concise reason, "More than animals."


	79. 79

79

Unraveled. Weightless, yet constricted.

Then, something deeper than intuition. Something more heady and sharp.

A cascade of affliction lead further and further, going beyond measurement.

First, the scent of earth and vegetation flooded the universe. A flicker occurred, something of both movement and light. It spoke of trees, a vast thicket. Distance came like a dry wave as a rustle swept softer than the finest downs. Another odor glided through the air, just the smallest hint needed for confirmation.

Kakarot was here.

He opened his eyes.

A setting sun tinted the world in sapphire, yet Vegeta could still clearly recognize the variety of color in the world. Lush reds, vivid oranges, and bold yellows twirled in a primitive, ancient dance - a seasonal ritual. From horizon to horizon there was no further revelation. Frustration began to swell inside the prince when another gust of wind rippled through the forest. Branches swayed in rhythm, revealing just on the edge of perception that a structure lay in close vicinity.

Diabolical twilight obscured his path, but the prince's resolution persevered the terrain. He came to a clearing, noticing immediately the audible and physical difference in his footsteps despite the whispering rain of leaves. Kneeling, Vegeta brushed against the ground to reveal that beneath sat a mosaic of stone - hidden by the strange half-light. The meticulously designed walkway extended on either side of him. He continued on without thought.

It was nigh impossible to ascertain what remained between him and the building. Darkness was too prevalent. And the darkness became shadows, which are clever since they shroud the obvious. Because of this, Vegeta started at a voice.

"Hello."

The prince was too stupefied to even move. An ornate, stone bench had been erected in the middle of the path. Sitting upon it in perfect stillness was the younger Saiyan he sought. Adorned on his frame was a magnificent, ebony kimono with ivory stitching.

"We've met before," Goku said with a ghost of a smile, "You'll have to forgive me, but it's been some time since I've last had a guest." As he concluded his sentence, he stood and gestured with his palm, "Honor me with your presence?"

To say the brunet was flabbergasted would be an understatement of immense proportions. The fading sun gave the other man an ethereal glow, accented by the glint of his obsidian eyes. However, Vegeta shook his head, reinforcing his decision verbally, "You're not safe here. Come with me."

"Not safe?" amusement entered Goku's voice, "In my very own home? You jest."

Confusion vied with curiosity, but they were both overcome. "Earth is your home," Vegeta blurted out before he considered the ramifications of such a statement.

In response the black-haired man turned on his heels and denied the insight imparted, "Ah, sure it is. Forgive me for being facetious. My apologies."

Anger flared inside Vegeta at the blatant sarcasm. "You're coming back with me," he declared.

This time Goku laughed, "Or else what? You'll force me?"

"Yes," the older man practically hissed.

Vegeta watched as the other man's face performed a transformation. The unsettling swift change of humor to keen somber impacted his gut like it always did. "Then try it," the other Saiyan said in a strange, rich tone somewhere between confidence, anger, and mischief. As Vegeta stepped forth, Goku stepped away and into the wells of darkness created from the sunset. "But perchance.." the younger Saiyan's voice floated from the shadows, taunting, "..you will find my company not so disagreeable." Taking the obvious bait, the brunet followed the source which led him to a dark shape that eventually revealed itself to be a large house of traditional Japanese style. Soft light poured onto the step - Goku's way of restating his invitation by standing beside the open door.

"Why do you refuse to come with me?" the irritated prince asked, unprepared for the upcoming retaliation.

"Why do you refuse to come with _me_?" Goku inquired the same of him.

"I told you," Vegeta said, "It's not safe here."

"Oh yes," his friend replied, "You explained that so thoroughly that it's a wonder you had to mention it at all."

"Kakarot, you have no idea what this place is capable of," angrily bitten words were returned, "Any sense of safety you may feel is merely an illusion. 'A fabrication to keep you ensnared."

Unyielding from his position at the threshold, Goku spoke another siren song, "And what made you feel safe when it would not stop pouring? What sort of illusions did you endure that robbed you of your pride? What makes you believe that this place is in any part your world of rain?" Vegeta gaped for a second which the black-haired man took advantage of. "Did you think I would forget like you? By now, you surely realize it's more than this place. The proof is here, all around you."

The prince fumbled for words, "But this... How can... You acted as if you forgot me!"

"Did I?" Goku raised an eyebrow, "Or did you just perceive it that way to satisfy your ideals?"

Vegeta stared into those dark eyes as if searching for a concession. "Alright then," he relented, "show me this home."

Candle-lit lanterns illuminated the dark, polished woods. Removing his sandals, Goku placed them appropriately in a _getabako_ before stepping up past the _genkan_. Observing this ritual, Vegeta complied by toeing off his boots. Plush rugs extended across the wooden floor instead of the regular _tatami _flooring; and some doors were _shoji _while others were of other compositions – both hinged and otherwise. It was an odd, flowing mesh of style and design. The younger Saiyan lead them up a steep, narrow staircase and into a room where the residual light of the sun exposed the furniture.

Sighing, the black-haired man sat at the edge of a bed, "You do make things difficult, you know that?"

The magnate came to halt beside him, still glancing over the surroundings, "You say that as if I intentionally try to create difficulty."

"Well, you did put a gun to your own head."

Vegeta snapped to attention instantly.

"Don't you realize what I risked?" Goku quietly spoke, "The gambit? You were trying to kill yourself. I came here hoping you would follow." His gaze stayed steady through the brunet's surprise, "You always protected me before. You said it was fate that you would be the death of me, and nothing else would have the pleasure."

"But.." his friend replied, "..You failed. I did shoot myself."

"Yet here you are: alive. I know you think you're taking responsibility, but there are alternatives." The perpetual twilight made all the words stand out in acute relief, "..Perhaps there is fate. How much satisfaction would you receive by taking my life? How much pleasure would it give you?" Silence lingered after his inquiries. Goku lay back against the mattress as his legs twined around Vegeta's waist, pulling him close, "How much pleasure do you want?"

A barely audible gasp escaped the prince's lips as their bodies pressed together. A simple word hung in the air almost palpable in the space between their quickening pulses. Paralyzed, mortified, the prince inhaled sharply when two heels in his lower back toppled him forward. The brunet barely broke the fall with his forearms. Nearly panicking as he felt the warm wash of Goku's breath, Vegeta tried to separate them. The word was agonizingly blatant, hazing his senses to the call. He resisted again, trying to make sense of this abrupt display. Hands that had pummeled flesh and crushed bones threaded into the prince's brown locks. That torturous word...! How could even consider..?!

The struggles had opened Goku's kimono, baring his slowly heaving chest.

Why would he ask this of him?!

Why now?

Why.. _please_?

"Take us back," Vegeta was glad he was able to release even a scant whisper, "and I'll tell you why I left in the first place." The fingers in his hair traced the nape of his neck. "Take us back," he pleaded, he begged, "and I'll tell you why I came here."

With great reluctance, there came a parting.


	80. This

**This** (80)

We arrive at an unfamiliar location. In front of me is a model of high-standard living with furniture that probably came from an Ikea catalog. Beyond Kakarot is an expanse of glass windows revealing how we tower over a cityscape.

"Where are we?" I insist an answer with the incisiveness in my voice.

"On Earth," he responds calmly, as if he hadn't just crushed our bodies together moments before. I strive to keep myself from blushing at the memory, trying to desperately focus on the gravity of the situation. "I fulfilled my promise," he states, dragging me head first into dread, "Now, uphold yours."

I can't.

I can't find my voice. I can't even admit to myself that revealing the truth would be better than Kakarot's.. odd behavior. Denial is such a bitter-sweet friend that I never cease relying on. As if it gave me advice that I knew I should not follow, but find myself doing all the same. Setting myself up to fail, as if achievements were a far more horrific fate than the crushing and crippling results of negligence.

I opt for postponement and manage to sound confident when I'm anything but, "I know this cannot be your place. Where are we, truly?"

His eyes burn into mine, conveying his displeasure at the question, almost as if he knew I was avoiding the subject. He probably does. "If it will make you comfortable to know," he informs, "We _are_ on Earth. We're in the city of Keac on the top floor of the Nuance building."

Still disbelieving, I prod, "Sure. And just how did you know to come to an empty apartment like this?"

With a sigh, he releases all the details, "This is one of Bulma's flats. I've been here before. I know she only uses it when she's in town for a two week long convention. Do you need me to take you to her? Do you have to ask her yourself?"

A part of me says yes, but that's the coward that is trying so hard to find a way out of my vow. To buy time. After a pause, I say, "No." I know he isn't lying to me. He's never lied to me. He folds his arms which rumple the top of his kimono, exposing more bare skin. I quickly look away to his face which is just as bad if not worse, "I believe you."

The longing in his eyes has shifted, and his perpetual gaze prickles my skin. Nrrgh! I'm not the only one who makes things difficult! My chest tightens at the thought of letting him know my secrets. The things I could not - cannot - eradicate so I bury them deep inside. It makes me feel like I dug graves and forced them inside a coffin of pride, covering them with the dirt of animosity. Then above them Kakarot comes along and burns an effigy to these secretly-living cadavers. The harder he stares the more acutely aware I become of my own fear. Fear of the knowledge I hold and fear of the consequences of sharing it.

The coward says, Break the promise. You owe him nothing.

The courage in me says, Avoiding the truth has brought you here. You already know the worst that could happen.

Images of the other Kakarot come to mind. The smirks and the smoke. The suggestive taunts and teases. The bizarre feeling of safety he could always elicit.

"Well?" Kakarot says, pulling me back to the present.

I take my first step of honesty, "I can't tell you." My voice drops to a murmur, "Not now..."

I expected a form of anger, but he only replies with, "Very well. We'll wait."

I'm shocked. He moves away towards the kitchen and checks the stock of items. Nothing is inside the refrigerator, but there is plenty of non-perishables in the cabinets. Without a word, he begins cooking. I stand awkwardly and stare as the black on his frame only reminds me of a black trench coat. I take a seat within a minute as weakness suddenly creeps through my limbs, crawling deeper, briefly paralyzing something so sacred I can't help but shiver.

The coward spoke more than the courage. Laced with temptation it told me: He doesn't really need to know. It's your business and yours alone. Tell him anything - he will believe it to be the truth. Can't you imagine how he'd react to the real truth?

Another shudder assaults me at the counter response in my head: He just tried to jump you, what do you think he'll do?...

I lean fully back and my eyes close while I listen to the faint noise of Kakarot over the stove. He is so very quiet. Time seems too long as I hear him sit and eventually clean up after himself. The soft sound of his footsteps does nothing to alter my position. I keep my eyes closed and my breathing deep and even. Inside I'm praying for him to walk away. All is still as he stands in front of me. I don't need my eyes to tell me this. Then, the unexpected occurs. With the gentlest touch he winds one arm behind my back and another under my knees. Although panic courses through my veins, I remain lax as he lifts me. With hushed caution he moves me to such an obvious place. The covers are soft and pleasantly cool. His doting is strange and uncalled for, and I hate myself for enjoying the attention. Lifting my head slowly, supporting my neck, he slides a pillow underneath. A sheet, then a blanket, covers my form as he first carefully pulled them out from under me. As if he were afraid he'd wake me, despite how much he wants to hear me speak.

I almost stiffen as his weight dents the bed opposite me. The only rustle of movement is him shifting to get comfortable. He does not move to join me under the warmth of expensive fabrics. We both lay in bed completely awake and overrun with thoughts. It isn't long before I'm flooded with memories, pondering on their meaning, examining them in detail in hopes for something I could bend or pull out of context. The truth? Why doesn't he tell me the truth? He doesn't lie, but he doesn't always _tell_ either. Hiding things from me. Protecting me. Without question, he gives me his conviction.

He makes this agonizingly difficult.

I awaken, not certain at all when I had drifted off into slumber. I look to my left and Kakarot is not there. Shameful relief washes over me. I sit up, but can't find the motivation to stand. Staring blankly at my hands I attempt to compose the story of my departure in simple terms. In a way that wouldn't leave my soul bare, vulnerable. Maybe I should escape from this. And as quick as that thought shoots through my mind another hits me with such astounding force I become breathless. No matter how far I run and no matter how long, I will never outrun myself. And no matter how far, or long, or fast, Kakarot will be there the second I stumble. To catch me before I fall. To save me like he always does.

Trembling is the instant reaction.

What if I asked him to simply let my promise go? God, when have I needed anyone's permission to do anything? What has happened to me? Where did this all go wrong? How far back does this go? How did it come to this?

My head is racing, spinning, sapping my resistance, driving me to yield. I will never have even the possibility of peace with this unfulfilled promise looming over me.

Kakarot enters the room, his timing uncanny. He surprises me with a smile, proving once more I make terrible assumptions. "Sleep well?" he inquires as he joins me. I shift so my legs hang off the side and my feet lightly touch the floor. If I don't have to see his expression, perhaps it will make this easier.

I blurt words out, almost choppily because I'm afraid, "Kakarot, I will tell you now." He says nothing. Merely listening with rapt attention. I close my eyes to pretend he's not here. That I'm just saying this aloud. That even though I'm telling myself the truth, maybe if it's just me I could still conceal it. Still not feel it. How I loathe the words anyways. In the dark, I begin to recount my actions. The reasons for them. Why they were so important to me. Why I would do this to myself.

My voice is thick, almost foreign, as I hear the words from my mouth and not my head. "Training for the androids seemed like a test to me. A test of patience and willpower. For days on end I trained in the gravity room to the point where I broke it and myself. Bulma tried to make me rest and recover. She really did. I wouldn't allow it. I trained even harder after that. Pushing myself to become the best. But it wasn't enough. It never seemed enough." An interim. "Bulma was kind. She knew what things I had done, and, still, she was kind. I knew she was lonely after that idiot hurt her again. It was the first time I ever felt the need to repay someone. So I did. I gave her.. the kindness.. I knew she needed." A deep inhalation for sustaining control. "However, it was distracting. I couldn't afford to be kind, yet as long as I stayed in her company she would come to me time and time again. I would say I felt guilty about leaving Earth, but it would be a lie. And it would never outweigh the feeling that my debt to her was repaid."

I swallow to relax my tightening throat. "If the training I had done on Earth was brutal, then the training I did in space could only be called masochistic. Every new idea I came up with was more dangerous, practically suicidal. I would either become the best or die trying. Day after day. I didn't even count them anymore. It was like they didn't exist. There was only me and this need. The need not to fail. I would not allow myself to. I wouldn't even give myself that option. I had decided months prior that I would not slow till I was a Super Saiyan. Why hadn't I achieved it yet? Every time I unwillingly slipped unconscious it was all I could dream about. That's how much it consumed me. It was my very life, as important and vital as breath. How could anyone understand this passion? I never questioned its intensity, not even in the face of death."

Spoken as low as a whisper, "But I did in the face of the one called Goku. As I stood among the debris of a dead planet, I saw him - a Super Saiyan. I called out. He did not answer. ..I became livid. I felt like the punchline of a joke. Until abruptly I realized, that despite the fantastic, glowing aura, I sensed no ki."

It's a struggle to continue. "Sleep deprivation. I convinced myself it was the lack of sleep. I finally allowed myself a respite, spending hours in blissfully blank rest. But I was wrong. Horribly wrong. And the first suggestion that I was came soon. It began innocuously. A shadow, perhaps, out the corner of my eye. Hints of black crossing my vision. This was nothing new. Physical strain had given me tunnel vision and other visual disorientation. So I ignored these occurrences easily, until the shadow became larger, darker, more.. solid."

An intake of air reminds me I'm not alone. That I'm saying these things to Kakarot. That this was some form of catalyst.

Somehow, I still manage to talk, "It wasn't long before it took form. Coming to life." I have to close my eyes for the next sentence, "It was you."

Without interruption, I grit out more, "Of course it wasn't you. I knew better. I knew you were on Earth. I told it that I knew it was just a figment of my imagination. That sleep deprivation coupled with sensory deprivation was what conjured this monstrosity. But.. It just laughed. Punctuating my loss of control even over myself. At every turn I saw you. Every action I took this Kakarot observed and critiqued. Pointing out my mistakes. Pointing out the obvious. It was tormenting!" Dizzy, I collapse onto the ground.

"Vegeta," the real Kakarot says, reaching to help me rise. I brush him away, kneeling on the plush carpet. The pain is too much. I never would make it in this state.

"But what was said was true," I speak now with urgency, as if if I did not do this it would tear me apart, "I was alone. My people were gone and I was trying to carry the pride of a race that was as honorable and trustworthy as a hypocrite. If I never returned to Earth, no one would care. You would never think twice of my absence." This time I give no resistance as he takes hold of my shoulders and pulls me closer. I no longer have the willpower to be aghast against this brazen motion. "I had to leave," the statement is blunt, "Even if I died I would not be free from the people who helped me become so pathetic. And I certainly wouldn't be free from you." Hesitating for far too long, I somehow bring myself to look up and into his eyes - an act so profoundly arduous I'm not sure how intelligible noises leave my throat, "I wanted so desperately for it not to be true. Excuse upon excuse was being tore away from me. Those incessant insults said in your voice which I finally realized weren't insults at all. I.. I left because.. of you. Because now matter what I did I could never redeem myself. No matter how hard I tried you would never fathom how much I... I..."

I hate the disgusting tears threatening to gather in my eyes, "You would never see.. the truth in me. I had decimated my own life. I had indirectly placed all the blame I had ever felt. I knew why I hated your mercy. I knew why I couldn't stand to see your smile. Because of this, I also knew why I wanted you dead. I knew I could never tell you because it wouldn't matter. ...It would only have driven me more insane than I already, obviously, was. And I couldn't bear that. I couldn't bear a universe where I could never tell you that I..."

I can't say it. For the first time ever, I crave pity.

Kakarot seems to understand, his eyes warm and full of forgiveness. The very thing I had been terrified of happens when he opens his mouth, "Vegeta, I l-"

My hand is over the crucible of an orifice in an instant. "Don't say it!" I try to command, but it comes out as a whimpered beseech, "Please, don't say it..." My begging disheartens him, but, sensing no threat, I retract my hand. Doesn't he know what would happen? That once said it could never be unspoken? That we could never go back to the way things were? This is enough. We can make it be enough.

"Sometimes, when you say nothing at all, I hear your words in the silence."

Skin crawling, I find myself unable to break his gaze. The Earthlings have a saying about reading people like a book. I always felt Kakarot would be the only one able to, but now I know it's because he's the only one I've ever opened up to. This evokes a type of giddy anxiety, like suspense painted with hope, or desirable dread. It's disorienting and maddening and cathartic all at once.

The silence lingers before finally staying. Eventually, I pull away. Uncertain of where to go, I simply stand facing the wall. How could I decide something so simple when I'm uncertain about every facet of my being?

I'm startled as Kakarot embraces me from behind. A hug clearly meant for comfort. This time the blush makes it to my cheeks, but I make no move to extract myself. He lets go too early and, yet, not early enough. With the pressure abated, I feel drained, empty, numb. I collapse back onto the bed. This is nothing like I had expected or planned. It always seems to happen that way. With my mind foggy, I can't seem to form coherent thoughts. Just images. Feelings.

I close my eyes, this time to allow myself repose which is granted.

Soft. Warm. Pleasing. I'm enamored with the blessing of these rare gifts. My skin tingles with the satisfaction of these delights, and for a moment I wallow in the lovely sensations that dart across my lips.

..My lips.

My eyes open to witness Kakarot kissing me.

After that, it all goes black.


	81. to begin, i conclude

to begin, i conclude

---

Pinpoints of light scattered in the monotony of space. Beauty unnoticed by the jaded life of a bound mercenary. Such a thirst to prove himself clouded his thoughts. Why did he not push the boundaries? If he really believed in his innate superiority then why live a life of servitude? No, this wasn't an occurrence - it was a remembrance. He had become an objective observer of his own life.

He lived the way in which he learned. The aspect of the Saiyan was simple, yet, how much could a five year old really, practically, retain? How could he possibly carry the weight of an entire race, regardless that he was the prince? It was unfair for him to bear something so immense. The Saiyan way was lost to his perceived idea of his people. Substitutions were made when appropriate, and the gaps filled in by the looming presence of Freeza. Such a strange thing, time. Experienced, but not felt. Elusive and fleeting.

Perhaps he let himself be manipulated in order to validate his selfish, destructive behavior. Whether he was manipulated or not was not in question. Just the how. The when and where. Now he wondered: How long?

How long have I fooled myself? How long have a held true emotions at bay? How long have I been what I hate?

I made that world. I made that Kakarot. I know what this disease truly is. The pride in me kept trying to fight it in hopes to return me to the man I was before. How could I ever again be satisfied with the atrocities I performed while in company of Freeza? How could I find delight in the sado-masochistic behavior which served only to serve itself?

When I was young, you spoke to me Father. You showed me infants being sent to conquer distant stars. You taught me everyone had a place they were born into. So, in essence, what you gave me was a predestined world. To tantalize me, you recounted tales of the Legendary Super Saiyan since my birth.

Father, you crushed my dreams.

When I was that young I held such reverence for our people. You would teach me how to spite them. I had felt nothing save for admiration for our strength. Until you instructed me to abuse it. You wanted me to become the Legendary for your sake. For your pride. For your unrelenting blood-lust and thirst for power. I wanted to become the Legendary to revitalize our species. To become something greater than just a prince, or a king. To become more than a warrior, or a force to be feared. I wanted to be what the title so called itself: a legend. I wanted to elevate the Saiyans to a place of superiority, but not one based merely on the physical and the greedy. I could be the protagonist we so desperately needed.

Yet, you wanted just the opposite. You wanted me to crush the bones of those weaker than us. You wanted me to spill the blood of innocents to feed your ego. You held me above others because you held yourself above others. You wanted me to be a mirror of you. That I allowed that to happen only emphasizes the tragic complacency of ignorance. Your goals became my goals. I inherited everything from you to the point where I was hardly a separate entity. I was merely an extension of you. You gave me life. You gave me your name.

And despite whatever affection you may have felt for me.. it withered under each corpse witnessed.

All I wanted was for you to show me how to love, Dad. It'd take another man to do that.

And how dare he reject my offer! I needed him by my side. I needed to understand what allowed a third class to become this powerful. I needed it so much I would kill for it. I would kill for him. I would kill him.

How strangely you can become detached from death when you are drunk on your own power. It's so much more pathetic how you'll become separated from life. When loneliness eats at your core until you're so damaged you can't stand being anything but anti-social. A psychopath. Evil.

Of course I was furious with you, Kakarot, you showed me the life I forsake. You reminded me of the lost dreams and broken promises. Of the years spent wasted wallowing in gullibility.

Anger because of the pain.  
Pain because of the truth.  
Pain for tearing away denial.  
Pain in revealing what I could never hope to attain.  
Pain caused by every bypassed opportunity.

And for what? The loss of a pathetic future? For an ideal based upon the foundations led by the generations before me? The requirement of choice?

You were the closest thing to a possession I had. Mine to break, if I so desired. If only we knew it was I that belonged to you. From the moment I laid eyes on you every action I took was somehow in relation to you. To beat you, to pursue you, to best you, to fight you. I had to have you.

I could have left Earth. I knew the gods only cared about your planet and the dragonballs. It would have been all too easy to claim the prize to your victory and replace Freeza. You stopped me without even asking. Without even knowing.

I was enthralled by you. Bound by disbelief and craving your eradication in order to pretend that true kindness did not exist. To never consider allowing someone to care about me other than myself. I would merely lose whomever I placed emotional stock into. I could not sacrifice anymore or surely what faint, frayed tendrils of pride wouldn't be enough to save me.

Me - convinced that any victory not obtained individually was a weakness - afraid of death. What a laughable contradiction. Revenge for mercy? How petty. How immature. How much it exposed my envy. And how could I not want you by my side? How could I pass up such a wondrous anomaly? My troth was given to you that day. This was serendipity in the guise of utter devastation and grave insult.

I wanted you since the incipiency of us.

And like a child I deemed that if I could not have you then no one else would have the pleasure.

You saw what I went through. All for the sake of this moment. For the answers.

I had become a god and my demons took advantage of that. Demons that weren't truly demons. Necessary appearances for the sake of achievement. To fight corruption I had to endure the rain and cold. To advance I had to accept the sorrow over the anger. Every part of me had to be broken so it could be fixed properly. It took infinity to bring me to this point, and perhaps another infinity I'll need to pass it.

Yet, I'm stained. I'm marked. It's how I contaminate anything pure. How I commit sin with and without intention. How I destroy the very thing I have come to covet. But there is redemption. It shadows my world. Sacrifice is the ultimate act of good. That perhaps it was my only chance at penance. No matter how fractional the act may seem. And for all my desires this may be the only one of significance, of importance, of something more than gratification that comes from _Schadenfreude_. The resignation of corrupt rapacity. I'm empowered by these thoughts. Enlightened. Satisfied. With my promise fulfilled, my soul will be infused in peace. Now that I know I can protect him. I can save both of us. I can give him back the ability to prosper. I can retire to the place of which I deserve. I believe this the only hope for the future.

My name is being called. Like opening my eyes from a dream, Kakarot is before me. Our hands clasped together as some unseen force attempts to pull us apart, a separation like some form of magnetism. The roof is gone and a clear blue sky is the backdrop to my last subject's frame. Below me I can sense the vastness. The darkness. Where we each belong. I can give him my nobility.

Our grip is slipping and he clutches fast with all his might, his hair golden as he scrambles for purchase. I'm the unseen force, aren't I?

Yet, I know it's okay. It's going to be alright. It'll be an eternity of atonement, life sentences served to not merely an immortal, but to one completely immune to death. I will give them all a gift. A cleansing. With it, I will divulge the very crux of my soul. My last selfish performance.

"Kakarot," I say, and he meets my eyes with a sadness that implicates a sense of knowledge of what will come to pass. The pain will vanish, but I will bear the load for both of us. It is the least he deserves. Let him enjoy life as a human. Let him forget the name Kakarot and the grievances attached. The words come unlike I had imagined they would - simply and with ease, "I love you."

He knows my intentions, but cannot interfere. I let him go, the black creeping over me like a parasite. I sink while he rises. So apropos. Crying out my name while he struggles in vain to reach me and grasp hold once more. Regardless, I cannot bring myself to regret this decision, even when his face is distorted with anguish.

Goodbye, my friend.


End file.
